


Haven

by Thirsty_Ace



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Car Accidents, Daemons, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Touching, Other, Rating May Change, Tags May Change, Tentacles, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2019-08-21 19:14:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16582433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thirsty_Ace/pseuds/Thirsty_Ace
Summary: A celebratory trip to Galdin Quay goes awry when the elements conspire to drag the Regalia off the road. Injured, tired, and hunted by daemons, the night wraps its tendrils tight and does not let go, even in the broad light of day."I thought I was going to lose you last night. I thought my carelessness had taken the rest of my family from me. I would give anything to return to a time when I didn't know how that feels."





	1. Under Grey Skies

###  **One: Under Grey Skies**

“Can’t we just stop at Cauthess?” Noctis asked. His forehead tapped against the cool, rain soaked window. “Camping in the rain is torture...”

Fatigue had long since lapsed into exhaustion, leaving nearly the whole royal retinue on the fringes of catatonic. They had been facing long days and restless, uncomfortable nights in a tent for the last few days. Pressed ever onward by urgent requests and the ever looming monolith of their own duties, they'd barely had a chance to breathe.

“Come on, man, you know those caravans smell like gym socks and bad life choices.” Prompto swiveled in the passenger seat, his eyebrows drawn close, scrunching his nose as if the thought itself exuded a foul stench. He had a point, of course. There was really no telling who or what had stayed in those campers before, and even more a mystery is who cleans between patrons. The thought was enough to make skin crawl.

“Well… so does the tent after being stuck in there with you and Gladio.” Noctis muttered, indignant. A large hand struck out at Noctis's shoulder, eliciting a startled yelp. He rubbed his shoulder and shot a scathing glare at the man sitting next to him.

Gladio, a small smile on his lips, reached over again to clap Noctis on the back. “Speak for yourself, Princess. You smell like wet Garula--”

“And who's fault is that?!” Noctis hissed, “Garula-tipping isn't even a thing, Gladio!”

“Worry not,” Ignis interrupted from the driver’s seat, “I have tonight's lodgings under control. Those hunts today were not for nothing.” He took a long sip of Ebony, lips twitching into a self-satisfied smile against the cool aluminum, “I do hope Galdin Quay is acceptable.”

There was a sudden and blessed silence, and Ignis became increasingly aware of slack jaws and unbelieving stares pointed in his direction. The resort came at no small a expense. Ignis was planning this for some time. Admittedly, he felt a little guilty for hanging on to such a large sum of gil instead of buying more resources. Mere potions seemed to have little effect as the days wore on, and the cost of the high-end energy drinks added up far too fast. And quite frankly, Ignis hated the looks he got from the rest stop attendants when he left with a box of 20 energy drinks.

“Wait, seriously?! I could kiss you right now!” Prompto nearly vibrated in the seat next to him as he turn again in his seat. By the look on his face, he really would have would have thrown himself into Ignis's arms had the steering wheel and his mortality not been in the way. Instead, he settled for slapping Ignis's arm in his excitement. The can in the Chamberlain's loose grip jostled violently, sending a precious few drops spilling over on to his glove clad fingers.

“I thought a couple nights at the resort would be a nice reward.” Ignis said by way of explanation.

There was a shuffling from the back seat as Gladio leaned forward against the passenger seat. “Not often that you loosen your death grip on the gil. What's the occasion?”

“If my intel holds true-” Ignis placed his Ebony carefully in the cup holder, giving Prompto a slight side-eye as he licked the droplets of coffee from his glove, “- the Fallgrove holds the last remaining intact tomb in Lucis, and it so happens to be on the way. Hunting them down has been exhausting for all of us, and that part of our journey is coming to a close. Especially after Balovue, I believe we deserve a nice rest.”

A hand laid across his shoulder, drawing his eyes to the rear view mirror. Noctis's gaze met him here. It was as if the storm had dispersed and the clouds of fatigue in his eyes had burned away, leaving nothing but clear blue crystal. It was like staring into the sun. His soft smile and bright eyes made Ignis's heart quaver in his chest. He found himself relieved that his Prince welcomed the gesture despite the festering wound he knew Noctis associated with the resort. After all, the first and last time they'd stayed there was the same day their lives had changed irreparably. Ignis wanted nothing more than to smooth over those wounds and create some semblance of happy memories before they dove once again into the unknown waters of Altissia.  
They'd set out from Lestallum that morning, hitting several errands on the way through Alstor Slough. Turns out their hunt for one troublesome Cockatrice turned into a lengthy scrap with three. And then there was the Catobelpas. They'd gone through so many potions and phoenix downs just trying to stay on their feet. But the reward was well worth the trouble, though they were all feeling the repercussions now. Potions could only help so much, after all. They could all use a nice rest-- both as celebration, and for much needed recuperation.

Ignis pulled his eyes back to the dark road and the enthusiastic chatter from his companions became nothing but white noise amidst the groan of the engine and roar of rain against the hood. The Regalia’s speed flagged as it began to ascend the hill to their destination, but Ignis couldn't help but let off the accelerator further. The rain had been fairly heavy for the last hour and there seemed to be no end in sight. The closer they got to the coast, the more it seemed as if the sky was opening up above them. Endless sheets of water blanketed the landscape, casting the landscape into further obscurity. Driving in the dark had always made Ignis wary, and the rain only made it worse. Nothing made his skin itch quite like having his vision obscured-- even to the point of wearing glasses when he may very well function without. He yearned to stop, to wait out the rain or put off their Galdin vacation for one more night and bear with the downpour in their tent.  
  
Leather creaked against leather as Ignis's grip around the wheel tightened. Specialty headlights meant nothing to the darkness ahead and the wipers did a woeful job of keeping the windshield clear of the rain's onslaught. The rain seemed to pick up and thundered against the car with startling ferocity.  Ignis considered silencing the idle chatter in the car around him as if it would aid in his intense concentration. A faint note of warning rose up at the edges of Ignis’s mind. He glared into the darkness beyond the headlights. It felt... unnatural. His body tensed instinctively, muscles coiling tight in anticipation. Through the sheet of rain, his eyes caught a barely perceptible gleam of wet metal and gray flesh in the headlights. That small whisper of caution morphed instantly into a deafening siren of alarm.  
  
Iron Giant  
  
It was too late to stop. Tires screeched against rain-slick asphalt. The smell of burning breaks was immediate and overwhelming, making Ignis's eyes burn. He jerked the wheel, desperate to avoid wrapping the front end of the Regalia around the gigantic iron sword that slammed into the road mere feet away. The front bumper clipped the daemon's weapon and set the car into a spin. Any remnant of control Ignis may have held over the vehicle was ripped from his grasp. A shotgun-like blast ricocheted through the cab as the airbag exploded. It slammed into him with devastating force, making his vision go white and consciousness slip from his grasp. He never felt the Regalia hit the guardrail and flip, nor the unforgiving underbrush ripping away at the roof.

 

* * *

 

 

The seconds that passed dragged on for hours. One by one, Ignis's faculties returned to him. He came aware first of the pulsing roar of blood in his ears. The acrid stench of burning fabric and gunpowder wafted around him and stung the back of his throat and made his eyes water as he tried to blink the blood and static from his vision. Dull aches began to crescendo into piercing pains as he began to struggle against the straps pinning him.

Panic rose in Ignis's throat and manifested as an agonized grunt. The vignette around his vision receded and the mass of glass-laden mud came into focus inches from his nose. The seatbelt held him fast against the slick leather seat, keeping his limp form from slumping onto the mud and moss that replaced the Regalia's roof. Nothing but the grace of the Astrals seemed to have kept his head on his shoulders opposed to smeared across the forest floor alongside half the royal vehicle. He cautiously tilted his head, looking up at his body, wedged between the seat and the console that jutted out awkwardly. Several large, dark spots were beginning to form on the fabric of his shirt and pants and he could feel the blood draining from his legs and draining from the cuts on his arms and face. Bright lights flashed behind his eyes as he let his head drop back again and the headache that followed threatened to steal his senses from him again. His fingers dragged against the mud as he willed a hand to his head, pressing against the worst of the pain and smearing the warm liquid across his brow.

He glanced to his right and examined the empty passenger seat for a moment before he could process what was wrong. Prompto was not next to him. He turned his head carefully over his shoulder next, but he saw nothing but ruined leather seats and large stones in place of Gladio. He was alone, trapped in the upturned ruins of the Regalia. Where his friends were, he could only guess. The others had bad habits of trusting Ignis's driving skill and ignoring his insistence at wearing seat belts. Certainly if the others were not at his side-- hopefully more remained of them than the Regalia.

Ignis fell limp against the seat belt, hanging uselessly for a moment while he collected himself. He counted his breaths, clamping down on his panic and shock. His mind was still clouded and slow, but an ounce of his training lingered close enough to the surface for him to grasp.

'Step by step.' He thought as he cast his eyes upward to assess his wounds.

His left shoulder was in an immense amount of pain, and Ignis figured the seat belt, while likely having saved him from a worse fate, had done its damage. It'd leave him with only one good arm to pull himself from the wreckage. He noted also, the warmth that ran from his shin to his hip, staining the bottom of his mud splattered shirt a deep crimson. His nose and cheek ached and burned where his glasses should have been. He was already well aware of the cut staining his hairline with blood.

The stench of gasoline crept up around him, drowning out the stench of the airbags. Ignis reached his good arm out and pulled the key from the ignition. Last thing he needed was to survive the crash only to be taken out by a fire. Next, he had to get free.

One leg, Ignis noticed, was pinned between the dash and the seat. Just letting himself drop would cause much more damage than he was willing to risk, and with as close as he was to the steering wheel and the ground, there wasn't a whole lot of room to be reckless. So, he pushed his free leg against the floor of the car and his good hand against the mud with as much force as he could muster. He reached across his body, pushing in the button on the belt and braced himself.

Nothing happened. He glanced down at the ruined lock and cursed quietly to himself. He'd have to do this the hard way. Magic sparked at his fingertips and crystalline blue shards formed into a dagger in his palm. He slid the blade carefully between his chest and the strap. With a sharp yank, the belt went lax and the blade shattered back into the Armiger.

Ignis's one arm couldn't bear the sudden weight and collapsed under him. He crumpled onto his shoulders awkwardly with his hips still suspended by the one leg still caught between crushed metal and fiberglass. He shifted himself carefully on the glass laden mud and gave his leg one good tug. The metal tore into his pants and opened the wound further, sending a fresh stream of blood down his leg. But he was free.

With all the windows shattered, and glass strewn across the ground, escape proved to be a perilous task. New rips opened up in his jacket as he pulled himself across the ground and through the opening left by the destroyed passenger window. Every inch felt like a mile to his weary limbs. He sucked in breath like a drowning man when he finally pulled himself free. He rolled onto his back, limbs splayed as he stared up into the canopy.

The rain had slowed slightly, shifting from an apocalyptic downpour into something one may even consider calming. The soft patter of water against foliage was completely at odds with the trail of destruction in the wake of the Regalia. The trail of glass, metal, and broken saplings disappeared into the darkness beyond his vision. He could hear the grunts of the Iron Giant from the road, though his blurred vision would never be able to pick out its shape. It'd be only a matter of time before other Daemons came to investigate the commotion. There was no time to waste. Now he had to focus on the others.

The underbrush was little more than a series of dark, formless blobs. All that was left of Ignis's glasses were two angry indents and several scratches where the airbag had shoved the metal and glass into his flesh. He prayed to the six that his friends were near. Finding the broad side of a barn in his condition would be asking a bit much. But he had to press on nevertheless.

Carefully, Ignis managed to get his knees under him. Pressing his hands against the side of the car for support, he hauled himself to his feet. He braced himself for a moment, waiting for his head to stop spinning before he pushed away and limped his way to the rear of the car, cursing every time he put weight on his bleeding leg. He yearned to smash open a potion right there, but without being able to properly assess his injuries, he knew it would be ill advised. Sealing mud and glass into his wounds would do far more harm than good. And anyway, the others may need them more.

“Noctis?” He choked out, his voice only loud enough to overcome the rainfall. He didn't truly expect a reply, but still the anxiety twisted horribly in his gut. Noctis not answering didn’t mean anything, right? His voice was weak and strained and the calls of daemons was hard to ignore.

He came upon Gladio almost immediately. As Ignis suspected, he'd been thrown from the car as it rolled. He'd been deposited a few feet away where he still lay in a crumpled heap of leather. Ignis crouched down next to the Shield, hands hovering inches from the unconscious man, uncertainty making his hands still. It was with a renewed wave of panic that Ignis realized that he had no idea what to do. A million possibilities assaulted him at once. Gladio didn't look too bad aside from a few new nasty cuts and angry red marks that would no doubt turn into very painful bruises... but there was no telling if that was all. He forcefully shoved the more heinous thoughts away and swallowed what panic he could before reaching out for Gladio's hand. He pressed his fingers against the man's wrist, and let out a breath of relief as he felt a slow, steady pulse beat against his gloved fingertips. He placed Gladio's hand down gently on the ground at his side. Seeing the Shield unconscious never got easier. But this time it wasn't a daemon that had done it, but Ignis. He muttered a quiet apology and staggered to his feet again.

Prompto, too, was not far away and in much a similar state. The guilt threatened to strangle the life from Ignis. Gladio was one thing-- sturdy and trained his entire life for dangerous situations, but not Prompto. Ignis gently lifted the boy's hand and checked his pulse, nodding in solemn approval before taking Prompto's face in his hands and inspecting the various cuts and burns that littered his face. The airbag had done a number, and if Prompto's nose wasn't broken, it was certainly going to be very sore for a while. Ignis sighed, whispering another hushed apology before getting back to his feet.

Noctis. The name pulsed through his mind over and over until he was no longer sure if he was merely thinking or if he'd begun to screamed the name aloud. He had to find him, and quick. The daemons had eyes on him. He could feel them circling in the shadows beyond his vision, just waiting for their moment to descend upon their injured prey like the ravenous beasts they were. With Prompto and Gladio out of commission and Noctis lost to the night, Ignis would never stand a chance. Not like this.

He took one faltering step after another, face screwed up in pain as his torn calf protested every inch. His head swam as he took another step toward the Regalia, and he pushed down the urge to vomit with the vertigo that overcame him. His balance wavered and slick ground slid under his feet. He pitched forward, barely managing to catch himself against the wreckage. With a growl of frustration, Ignis lowered himself into the mud once again and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes as if he could physically push the headache away. There was no time for his own weakness. He knew he had to carry on through the pain. His friends needed him. Noctis needed him.

An unsteady sigh escaped Ignis's lips. He set his jaw and pulled himself up, using the Regalia to support his unsteady weight. He scanned the forest floor one more time, but he felt effectively blind. The headache pounded behind his eyes so intensely that his gaze began to go to static with each beat of his heart. His options were quickly narrowing to two. He could call out in hopes that Noctis was lucid and could reply, but draw the ever circling daemons to him, or he could wander into the dark daemon infested forest alone with an injured leg and hope that he managed to stumble in the right direction to find his prince before something else.

Fear thrummed though ever fiber of his being. He should have been prepared. He should never have let them set out on the road so ill equipped. He had the gil to restock their phoenix downs, their potions, anything they would have needed. What could go wrong, he had foolishly thought. How could they possibly need any on their very safe and eventless drive to Galdin? He'd been selfish instead. And now he couldn't revive Prompto or Gladio to help him. He recalled only a single phoenix down at his disposal, and as luck would have it, he had slid the large plume into an inner pocket of Noctis's jacket after the catobelpas encounter.

His choices were narrowed once again.

“Noctis!” Ignis called out, as loud and clear as he could manage. He did not have to wait long for a response. Inhuman screeches rang up in every direction. Ignis tore his daggers from the Armiger, clenching his fingers around them until his knuckles ached. He fell instinctively into a defensive stance, favoring his good leg. He'd taken the risk in hopes that Noctis could hear him, and now he had to deal with the consequences. A quiet plea fell from his lips.

A distorted chuckle pulled his attention to the darkness on his left. One by one, small blue lights sparked to life, illuminating the grotesque figure hunched low to the ground, it's human-like hand grasping something on the ground below its arachnid legs. Its pale white face rose and locked its eyes on Ignis and let out a screech of rage. The Prince hung limp in the Arachne's tight grip as she rose.

“Noct!” Ignis lurched forward and let his daggers slide from his hand with as much power as he could muster. One blade went wide, striking the trunk of a nearby tree and shattering into blue sparks as it returned to his hand. The other sank into the humanoid abdomen, drawing another enraged screech from the creature. Electricity sparked around the Arachne's body, turning aside the next two daggers. Before Ignis could will his legs to move, the massive form crashed into him. Hard metal chased the air from his lungs as he was slammed into the side of the Regalia. He gasped desperately as the Arachne descended on him. A leg pressed into his chest, squeezing more air from Ignis's lungs as he drove a dagger again and again into the chitinous appendage.

The creature leaned low, a vile smile on it's too-human lips. Electricity sparked between its delicate fingers as it reached out for his throat. The current wrapped itself violently around his rain-soaked flesh. Every muscle in his body tensed as the electricity poured through them and he found himself seizing before his mind went blank.

The current stopped suddenly. And like an answering crack of thunder, the breast of the beast split open, Ignis's half lidded eyes registered a blade slipping between its ribs, just inches from his face. With a great yell of effort, the blade ripped a path upward, severing arm from neck, and Ignis was released from the Arachne's grasp. The daemon could do no more than gurgle it's protest before its corpse slumped to the ground.

Ignis barely registered a second thud as he sank to the ground again at the car's side as his body struggled to reboot. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest, trying to find its rhythm again. And barely above the thumping in his chest he heard his name. He lifted his eyes to the body laying a few feet away, sprawled out in the mud gracelessly. Ignis felt all tension leave his body. He'd have cried in relief if he had the energy to do so.

“Impeccable timing, Noct.” He said around the dryness in his mouth, “Are... you alright?”

Noctis only replied with a breathy laugh and a ragged groan.

Once again, Ignis used every bit of energy he didn't have to drag himself through the mud to his companion. He came to rest at his prince's side, head hanging low over his chest. He couldn't summon the energy to voice his thoughts, his worries, his thanks, or beg for forgiveness, but Noctis heard them all anyway. He always did.

“Noct...” Ignis began after a moment. He knew he had to hurry, but he couldn't help but bask in the warmth of his relief. “... There's a Phoenix Down in your jacket... I need you to use it on yourself and get out of here.” Nothing else mattered. If he had to use whatever strength he had left in him to cover Noctis's retreat, he would gladly give his life to do so. Ignis took comfort in the knowledge that Gladio and Prompto would likely have felt the same.

Noctis squinted up at Ignis, and shoved his hand inside his jacket, pulling the brightly colored plumage from an inner pocket. He pulled his gaze to the talisman, and then back to Ignis. Without a word, the talisman ignited in Noctis's hand. The Phoenix's Favor coursed through him, burning through his his injuries until none remained. And to Ignis's shock, the magic flowed through him as well.

“I switched it out for a Mega that Gladio found after we fought that catobelpas.” He sat up, and Ignis pulled away from his protective stance. “I wasn't about to have a backup plan if it didn't involve you idiots as well.”

“Full of surprises tonight, are we?” Ignis stood and held his hand out, helping the prince to his feet. On the other side of the Regalia, he could hear Prompto and Gladio coming to. It seemed that disaster had been averted for now. But the Daemons knew they were there, and they were closing in.


	2. Pendulous Fall

###  **Two: Pendulous Fall**

Ten tonnes of iron slammed to the ground at Noctis’s feet. Miasma swirled around the giant corpse and devoured what remained. Noctis huffed and sent his blade back into the Armiger with a flick of his wrist. He doubled over, bracing his shaking hands against his knees as his lungs labored for each breath. It was a test of stamina that each of them began to fail. Each daemon that feel at their feet spawned two more in its place. Noctis had already gone into stasis several times just trying to dodge around giant flaming blades or the tangle of spider legs. Neither Noctis or Prompto had the years of training that Gladio and Ignis had, and even they seemed to be on the brink of collapse. No Crownsguard training would ever prepare them for this onslaught of daemons. That suddenly seemed as somewhat of an oversight on their part. Despite their protests, daemons spawned one after another, hardly leaving a second to rest before they were once again forced to either fight or flee. And increasingly, fighting wasn't much of an option. They'd been running more often than not after the first few battles once the Iron Giants gave way to their red skinned counterparts. It was too much. Ignis had attempted to lead them to the tomb, but every path ahead was guarded. Each diversion drew them further and further from familiar landmarks. The night and pervasive black mist had them turned around in mere minutes. Finding the safety of the Old King's tomb was but a hopeless fantasy.

“What the hell is going on?” Gladio grunted. He plunged his sword into the soggy earth, leaning heavily on the pommel as his fingers quested to the back of his neck to rub circles into his aching neck. The after effects of whiplash and battle exhaustion were beginning to take a toll on his body, “We can’t even get a minute to breathe!”

Prompto responded with a frustrated howl as he flopped onto the ground. He was so far beyond caring about the mud streaked across his clothes and caked into his hair. His usual carefree demeanor was dampened by the night that pressed in around them. Noctis collapsed at his side, swatting away Ignis's insistence that he stay standing.

“The concentration of Daemons here is unusually high...” Ignis said. He stood rigid behind Noctis as he scanned the inky darkness between the trees. They'd taken refuge near a rocky outcrop, finding a seconds respite. He'd had an odd feeling in his gut for the last little while, one that told him there was something abnormal at play. Well, more abnormal than usual. “Not to mention we are bereft of curatives. I doubt we could come away from another fight unscathed. On your feet, Highness.” Ignis held his hand out to Noctis. The prince looked exhausted and had several fresh cuts that oozed blood. Despite the Phoenix Down used earlier, many of the wounds from earlier had not healed over properly, leaving each of them looking rather bedraggled.

 

Darkness spread across the ground and curled around the limbs of the two boys resting amid the undergrowth. Prompto scrambled to his feet with a startled yelp. The miasma at Noctis’s feet shifted and swirled back to life, slowly swallowing the Prince. Ignis grabbed for Noctis, catching a fistful of his jacket and yanking him from the ground as the mist began to coalesce. He held an arm out protectively, putting himself between his prince and the enemy. Two more patches of mist formed on either side of them, cutting them off from Gladio and Prompto. Pale arachnid bodies unfolded from the darkness, electricity crackling around them. Ignis's attention was torn from one side to the other. They were trapped between the rocks and the roiling mist. Running wasn’t an option, even as panic swelled unfettered in him. But defiance had him pinned to the spot with a dagger dancing between his fingers. The alarmed cries of his friends were drowned out by a horrible screech of metal as a giant crimson hand shot up in front of them. Ignis stumbled back, bumping into Noctis. He cast a quick look back, panic easily overtaking his bloodlust.

“Run.” Ignis pleaded, praying that for once in his life the prince would just do as he was told.

“Like hell!” Noctis said with a growl. The Engine Blade formed in his grasp as he fell into a defensive stance behind Ignis. “I am not leaving you guys behind!”

“Your Highness, I insi--”

“Watch out!” Prompto’s words were punctuated by a loud explosion from his pistol. Noctis reacted quickly, phasing to the left and out of the path of the charging Arachne. Ignis, however, was not as lucky. Electricity crackled across the ground, radiating from the Arachne as it slammed its body against the damp earth. The cry that tore from Ignis was horrifying. Noctis spun just in time to see his advisor go down, convulsing with the painful current coursing through his limbs for the second time that night.

A second Arachne pulled itself from the shadows and advanced on Gladio and Prompto. They were pushed back and struggled to find their footing with the dog-sized tarantuas crawling underfoot. Gladio’s massive blade slammed into the chitinous form, taking out several tarantulas with the swing. Four more took their place. Not even Prompto’s gun could keep up with the onslaught of daemon spiders. They were driven back foot by foot until the space between them was too great to come to the aid of their Prince or his adviser.

Ignis’s limbs would not obey. Try as he might to recoup, he could only watch as the daemon advanced on him. His fingers twitched against the hilt of his dagger, tension coiled tight with no promise of release. He managed to kick a leg out at one of the spider’s legs , but that did little to deter it from moving closer and bending low over his prone form. There was little doubt the thing intended to make a meal of him.

Noctis raised his sword, moments away from warp-striking the beast to draw her attention away, but the sword shattered in his grasp, pressed back into the armiger as his attentions shifted. Giant red fingers wrapped around Noctis and lifted him from the ground. The hand tightened, drawing a pained groan from its captive. Noctis thrashed against the huge fist in a futile effort to free himself as the grip grew tighter still. His groans became cries of pain, and Noctis ripped a dagger from the void and thrust it into the meaty red flesh wrapped around his middle. The Red Giant roared and released Noctis with a wide sweep of its arm.

Ignis watched in abject horror as Noctis slammed into the rock face not a yard away and fell to the ground in a crumpled heap. His voice was weak as he rasped out Noctis’s name, hoping beyond hope that Noctis would stand again. He did not. Ignis struggled against the heaviness in his limbs. He could barely do more than watch the Arachne stalk closer, her legs beginning to shift Ignis’s body in anticipation. Her human torso bent low enough that Ignis could smell her rancid breath as it ghosted across his cheek. He turned his head away. He could feel her legs begin to lift him and he knew his time was up. He jerked his arm as hard as he could, willing the paralysis away. The movement was inelegant and uncontrolled. He clenched his hand into a fist and pulled at Noctis’s magic.

The head of his spear materialized in the Arachne’s skull, not giving the creature a moment to react. With a yell of effort, Ignis grasped the spear tight in both of his hands and tore through the creature’s flesh. There was a sickening crack as the spear was pulled out, spilling gore across the ground. The Arachne collapsed, its dead weight pinning Ignis’s weakened legs.

“Ignis!” Gladio’s voice called over the incessant screech of bending metal as the Red Giant lumbered toward its new target. “Iggy, you alright?”

With another grunt of effort, Ignis planted his palms against the dirt and pushed himself back, dragging his legs out from under the daemon. It took a moment before his legs would obey and allow him to stand. Adrenaline seemed to be the only thing keeping him going, but he was thankful he had his spear to keep him upright.

“Alive.” Is all Ignis could muster in response, though it felt a miracle he responded at all. His attention was focused completely on the unmoving form of Noctis a few feet away. He cursed his body for moving so slowly, for his attention that had wavered long enough to allow any of this to happen.

“We’ll draw them off. Get Noct out of here!” The Shield yelled back. He stumbled back as the Giant’s sword swung toward him and took cover behind the trunk of a massive tree. “Do whatever it takes to get to the Haven. We’ll catch up!”

Ignis moved as quick as his legs could carry him to where Noctis lay. He collapsed to the ground at his Prince’s side, pressing his hands gingerly against his chest. He shot a glance to the other two a way up the hill, pulling a full retreat as they lured the two daemons away. Ignis allowed himself a breath to center himself, taking that small pearl of relief and holding tight to it. Those two could handle themselves. They had to.

“Noct?” Ignis’s voice was barely above a whisper. The last thing he wished to do was alert any more daemons or creatures, so he kept his voice low. But as expected, there was no response from the Prince. Ignis pressed his fingers against Noctis’s neck. There was still a pulse. He took another breath. He hefted Noctis into his arms and pulled him back into a split in the rock. He began to count the seconds, mouthing his words against Noctis’s soaked locks.

 

A few minutes went by, and the sounds of Prompto and Gladio had faded into the distance, along with their pursuers. He shifted Noctis’s body in his grasp and looped an arm under his legs as he stood. He let out a breath and poked his head around the side of the rock face. Aside from a few imps lurking in the distance, the coast was clear enough. Ignis exited his cover and began limping back toward the Regalia’s wreckage.

If he’d kept his bearings, their destination was a quarter mile away to the northwest. They’d been chased south, mainly, trying to stick to the road as much as possible. He had no clear idea of how far they’d run in their desperate escape, and no clue exactly how far he’d have to carry Noctis to find the Haven. If he could get far enough away from the daemon threat, maybe the crystal’s magic would kick in and awaken his sleeping prince.

It felt like hours before he spotted the telltale glow between the trees. He stumbled forward, the adrenaline pushing him on. But as he neared, his heart sank. Massive figures moved in front of the glowing sigils, giving an eerie backlight to the lumbering daemons. Ignis’s pace slowed to a stop and his legs gave out under him. The Haven was surrounded. A horrible feeling wormed its way into Ignis’s gut, one that told him that this wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe they’d planned this. Maybe this was all planned.

  


The rain still had not let up. If anything, it seemed to be getting worse once again. The Haven offered divine protection from that which would harm them, but that was the extent of it. Without their camping gear, they would be at the mercy of the elements. Not to mention that even attempting to bypass the Daemons was, in itself, a death wish. No, that was out of the question. Ignis would much rather suffer a sleepless, yet dry night over the alternative. As long as the prince got rest, he would gladly stand watch for the night. It was not as if the Haven was a real choice anyway. He’d waited some time, hoping they would disappear. But luck was surely not on his side.

So he walked. Ignis gripped Noctis harder, pulling the limp body tight against his chest as he picked up the pace. Progress was agonizingly slow, though he knew not where he went. Between dodging packs of wandering daemons and having to search for solid ground amid flowing mud, Ignis’s stamina was flagging. More than once, after a mad dash to escape prying eyes, he found himself on his knees in the mud with bloodied elbows, pulling Noctis’s back into his arms. He hardly had the strength to stand and his leg ached with the remnants of its injury.

“Noctis… What do I do?” Ignis asked, lowering his head to his chest as he watched the water roll from his limp hair and drip onto Noctis’s too-pale cheek. He thumbed the droplet away, letting his fingers linger longer than appropriate. Noctis would have swatted his hand away, admonishing him for invading his sacred personal space. One of the few things they truly had in common, it seemed. Still, he could not help but drag his gloved fingertips down the line of his jaw, marveling at how flawless the skin beneath his hand was, before resting his fingers against Noctis’s neck. Even through the thin leather, he could feel the steady heartbeat thrum under his hand. It was strong, and getting stronger each time he checked. It cut through his anxiety beat by beat. Tonight hadn’t been the first time Noctis had fallen in battle, but he always recovered quickly, needing only a few moments before the magic of his bloodline worked its miracles. But it had been— how long? Hours, maybe? It was difficult to tell.

Certainly he would awaken soon. Ignis’s nightmare would cease the second Noctis opened his eyes. It was a ray of hope that sparked the fire once again in Ignis’s blood. He pulled Noctis into his arms again and hauled himself to his feet. He would find shelter, if for no other reason than to keep Noctis from cursing his family line should he be roused in such a state.

A tower rose from the forest floor, a stone skeleton of an ancient colossus. All about the courtyard lay its ruined facade, being slowly reclaimed by the same earth that made it. Even so, it was a sight to behold. The center tower stretched beyond the canopy, lines of glowing red ascending into the lightning streaked sky. The structure was old, and its function far beyond the memory of any who now laid eyes on it, a relic of a civilization that had long since passed into myth.

It made Ignis uneasy. Solheim’s technology had created horrors that still brought chaos to this day, utilized by tyrants that would tear the star apart just to watch it burn, just as they had before hubris had razed Solheim to the ground. It was almost a pity, Ignis thought, that so much history and technology had been lost, preserved only in daemon infested forests and the weapons of the enemy.

Ignis walked beyond decrepit walls into the courtyard proper and past crumbling pillars until he stood at the foot of the stairs. He hefted Noctis up higher in his tired arms as he ascended the staircase. The foyer beyond was in as much disrepair as the rest of the courtyard. The ceilings nothing but debris on the floor, leaving only walls and arches scattered around the circular room. Almost all vertical surfaces were glowing with the ancient red runes like circuitry, casting an eerie light into the surroundings. Warily, Ignis pressed forward into the center structure, eyes cast ever skyward.  

His footsteps echoed in the confines of the center tower, rebounding off glowing walls. Chilled air swirled from below, and as Ignis peered over the stone balustrade, he realized that the tower was much deeper than it was tall. The red lines sank into the darkness below and were snuffed. But nothing rose from that pit except stale air. The silence was no comfort-- He found it oppressive and set his nerves ablaze. He thought of the daemons lurking in the dark places of Eos, of the Aramusha that had nearly ended Noctis’s life in the depths of Balouve Mines. He hoped to find shelter here, but the feeling in his gut had him taking a step back. Maybe he could still find something else.

“Ignis?” Noctis’s voice was raspy, as if he’d just woken from a long nap. Ignis’s attention snapped to the figure in his arms. He shoved his trepidation down and set a gentle smile on his lips as Noctis finally opened his eyes. His relief was almost palpable. Noctis was awake, alive, and aware at last. The ever-present lump in his throat disappeared and the adrenaline ebbed away as if his entire being waited for Noctis’s voice to grant him rest. Immediately, he felt drained and each ache of his muscles made themselves extremely evident. But he would bear with it, feeling a familiar spark of warmth transfer from the slowly shifting body in his arms to his own limbs. Noctis’s magic greeted him like a balm. It was like a gentle pressure easing off his chest; something indescribable but distinct, like the first whisper of spring after a long winter.

“Highness.” Ignis said, shifting his prince to allow him to find his legs. Noctis obliged and planted both feet on the ground, but he kept an arm wrapped around Ignis’s neck, unsure if his legs could bear his weight. Ignis held him gently, careful to not put too much pressure on bruised flesh as he wrapped an arm around Noctis’s waist, “How are you feeling?”

The question didn’t have to be asked when the answer was written clearly on the Prince’s face. Noctis’s gaze was still hazy and sluggish as he looked around himself. Disorientation was to be expected. Noctis gripped Ignis a little tighter, wincing as he was ushered forward. His limbs were slow to keep up with the forward momentum and he leaned on Ignis more and more with each passing second.

If he could, Ignis would have swept him back up into his arms, but as it was, he was hardly keeping himself up. They were both at the end of their rope. Noctis would not be able to continue, and Ignis could not carry him any further. They both needed the time to rest and let Noctis’s magic heal their wounds. This would simply have to be the end of the night’s journey, whether they liked it or not.

“Where are we?” Noctis asked, likely not even registering his chamberlain’s inquiry.

“I am… unsure.” Ignis said quietly, “A watchtower or military base from Solheim, perhaps?” He helped Noctis over a large patch of rubble as he continued to push into the structure. It didn’t take long for Ignis to realize that no corner of the structure had dry floors, nowhere except a set of steps leading downward into the darkness of the tower. It was certainly a poor notion, but the only overhang in sight lay at the base of those stairs. He’d have to push aside his misgivings. They needed this. The creatures that inhabited the darker corners of Eos didn’t tend to linger near the entrances… it should be relatively safe.

Noctis grunted as he was helped to the floor on a small landing two flights down. Another flight descended off to the right into the tower proper. Slits in the stone glowed faintly, casting the stairs and the room beyond in a dim light, but Ignis dare not go further. He’d keep his eyes on that darkness as best he could.

Noctis flopped back against the wall and carded a hand through his wet hair. He looked up at Ignis and patted the floor at his side. With only a second’s hesitation, Ignis settled in beside him. There was a stretched out silence between them, comfortable, but filled with a thousand words left unsaid. With the immediate danger behind them, all Ignis could concentrate on was the feeling of guilt rising in his chest. No matter how hard he tried to quell it, it rose again, screaming at him. This is all your fault. You nearly killed them all.

“I’m freezing.” Noctis mumbled as he drew his knees up and wrapped his arms about them.

“I apologize, this was the best I could find.”  Ignis smoothed a hand down his rain-soaked jacket and flicked the water from his fingers. They were both drenched. From his side, he could see the subtle shake of Noctis’s dark hair that sent droplets running down his jaw.

“Don’t apologize. I’d be dead if not for you.”

“Come now, the other two would have done the same had they been in my position.”

“Well, they weren’t, so you’re just going to have to accept my thanks.” Noctis said with a tone of finality. He caught Ignis’s gaze and offered a small smile. Just a slight quirk at the edge of his lip, but it tugged at something in Ignis’s chest. Ignis allowed himself a huff of amusement before he leaned away and pulled the drenched suit jacket from his shoulders.   

For the most part, his shirt had been spared by the tight weave of his jacket, leaving the courel print only slightly damp. Noctis, on the other hand, didn’t quite have the same luxury.   He struggled out of his short sleeve jacket, tossing it carelessly aside in a sopping heap. The charcoal shirt followed after. He reached behind his head, taking a fist full of his collar in each hand and pulled it over his head. Ignis averted his gaze as he saw the fabric pull back and expose the expanse of the prince’s back.

Much like himself, Noctis wasn’t one to expose skin. It may have been from their upbringing so close to the public eye, always expected to show modesty and an air of regality. But Ignis knew that it was that long streak of discolored flesh that had Noctis on edge. Noctis had never quite been the same since the incident that gifted him with that scar. For weeks he had people poking and prodding at it at all hours of the day, commenting on how frail he looked and how he may never be able to walk again. Even after he proved them wrong, there were always those that wanted to see, that felt they were entitled to his trauma. It’d forever be a reminder of his worst days, so now Noctis carefully hid it away and tried to forget. Even in front of his retinue, he was hesitant to leave himself bare.

That he would expose himself now without an ounce of self-consciousness in front of Ignis lit a small spark of pride. After all, they had not always gotten along. During their more tense moments, he wasn't even sure Noctis would call him a friend if it came down to it. Duty had a way of wrecking friendships. There was so much history between them, but this single small gesture was enough to prove to Ignis that at least Noctis was still more comfortable around him than anybody else. There was a lifetime of history between them, and that came with a trust that time and distance would never wear down.

Ignis found himself far too pleased with the sentiment. He did his best not to steal another glance, so he busied himself lest Noctis notice the blush creeping up from under his collar. He pulled a fire flask from the armiger and placed it at their feet. He opened it and let the magic drain slowly, hot but relatively harmless. It would only work for a short time, but it was far better than nothing.

Noctis laid his shoes and socks alongside his shirt next to their makeshift campfire. Steam rose from the wet mass of clothing, swirling among the slowly gathering mist. The firelight danced across the stone walls, casting shadows on the ceiling. The crackle of the magical fire came as a small relief amid the silence of the tower. And in the orange light, Noctis looked resplendent. Water rolled down his damp skin and was whisked away by quick fingers.

Ignis found himself staring again and didn’t want to pull his eyes away. He let his sight rest a moment longer before he forced his gaze forward, tugged off his too-fancy shoes, and laid them beside Noctis’s. He folded his fingers into his lap as he leaned back against the wall, keeping his gaze ever on the descending staircase. But his attention was fully on the blurred figure at his side. His heartbeat thundered in his chest when Noctis leaned into his side with a world weary sigh. He yearned to drape an arm across those pale shoulders and draw the younger man in closer, but as always, he pushed his thoughts to the side for the sake of propriety and clenched his hands tighter in his lap.

Ignis had always been good at organizing his thoughts and feelings, or at least that’s how it seemed to those around him. Truth be told, he felt like an absolute mess, barely keeping it together. Years of practice had effectively divorced his professional life from interfering with his personal life— except for Noctis. Noctis was the string that kept them tied together, confusing where his duty ended and his pleasure began. And to Ignis, Noctis was a pleasure. Sure, he was a little spoiled and sometimes a handful, but that never quite took away from his unyielding admiration for the young prince. He saw something that so many others did not, something that warranted his unconditional devotion. Noctis would never be just a job.

The roadtrip had been mentally taxing. Such extended close proximity to the object of his affections was becoming harder to bear. He had no right to feel as he did about his Prince. It was entirely improper. He had to force himself to not react. Especially now, with his guilt and relief mixing together in a dangerous cocktail and Noctis leaning on his shoulder, shaking from cold. He was sure Noctis could hear his his heart pick up its pace in his chest.

“Specs...” Noctis began, causing Ignis to stiffen at his side,. “Where’s Gladio and Prompto?”

“They separated from us to draw off the daemons. They’re probably out hunting for shelter now as well. We will reconvene with them in the morning.” Ignis spared a look down at the prince, praying that he didn’t hear the way his heart fluttered as their eyes met. Astrals save him, he was in trouble.

“Oh.” Noctis settled again against Ignis’s shoulder and wrapping his arms just a little tighter. Ignis sighed and carefully draped his arm around Noctis’s form, giving in to his selfish instinct.

“Don’t worry about them, Highness. They’ll be fine. We will catch up with them in the morning. Just… rest.”

There was a long moment of silence between them, and it wasn’t until Noctis spoke again that Ignis realized he was still awake.

“Thanks, Specs.”

Ignis tightened his hold on Noctis and said nothing.

 

* * *

  


The magic flask lay drained, its magic long since spent. The darkness and chill it kept at bay closed in. Thin wisps of fog licked at the sleeping men's feet as it wafted up from the dark below. Ignis had intended to stay awake, but the will of the darkness was strong. That decision was never really his to make.

A tune arose from the deep, whistled out between pursed lips. Fingers danced across cold stone, tapping out a rhythm long since forgotten. The air shifted and swirled, scattering the remnants of mist the clung to the two sleeping forms. As the tune grew louder, so too did the sound of heavy footsteps. Then, all at once, the cheery tune stopped.

Ardyn stepped onto the landing, his coat dragging a blanket of miasma behind him. He rolled the flask under his heel as he contemplated the two men before him, huddled like mongrels away from the storm. He crouched, hand outstretched to ruffle the sleeping prince's already disheveled hair. Noctis's head lolled to the side, cheek resting uncomfortably on his bony shoulder. He did not stir, nor would he.

“Ah, youth...” Ardyn chimed, “To be able to sleep so soundly with daemons at your doorstep.” He patted Ignis's head as he stood and turned to the ascending stairs, twirling a timeworn bronze key between his fingers before dropping it into a pocket.

“May you have the sweetest of dreams, Your Highness.” The tune was at his lips again, its trilling notes withering between the close set stone walls and trailing into the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for reading!  
> I figure I will do some housekeeping here and let you know about some head-canons I will be working off of for this story.  
> \- Lucis is much bigger than what is presented to us in game. I've decided to measure the distance between locations by how much in-game time it takes to get there rather than the miles/kilometers it gives us.  
> \- Every outpost is attached to a small town, like you'd find in the real world. These people gotta live somewhere!  
> \- The armiger can only hold weapons.
> 
> I... think that's all? I can't remember if it is or not. Sooo... I'll just sort of make sure to write good and explain things in the narrative if I need to.


	3. Regalis Apertura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night has ended, but the strange circumstances have only just begun. The forest may yet hold some surprises.

###  **Three: Regalis Apertura**

Ignis couldn't say what roused him from his sleep. Whatever it was had him jerking awake, his heart pounding violently in chest as it pumped adrenaline to his battle weary limbs. He clutched at his shirt, feeling his heartbeat pound relentlessly under his fingers. His skin prickled with cold sweat and he could not help but fidget with nervous energy. All the symptoms seemed rather familiar, though not at all for himself. Nightmares, he realized. An ailment that Ignis never had to deal with in all of his years, though he found himself well versed. Noctis had often come to him as a child, shaking and crying. He never fully understood why Noctis became so upset, often telling him there was nothing to be afraid of. Now he understood, though he could not hold on to the threads of his nightmare. And though the details slipped away, something awful swirled in his stomach, threatening to have him double over and retch.

A familiar warmth against Ignis's side was the only thing that kept the anxiety from consuming him. He shifted to look at Noctis where he huddled between Ignis and the corner of the wall they sat against. The young prince looked like he had been through hell. And in all honesty, it was hard to see the difference from where Ignis sat. He watched the slow rise and fall of Noctis's chest, comforted just by the knowledge that they'd managed to survive the night. The slight pulling at his brow and the hitch in his breath told Ignis that the horrors of the night had followed Noctis into his dreams, as well. Ignis carefully draped his arm across Noctis's shoulders, pulling the sleeping form closer to his chest. Noctis seemed to settle into him slightly as Ignis rubbed soothing circles into the fabric on his shoulders. Slowly, his attention shifted away from Noctis to their surroundings.

Something was.... wrong. The entire sky was open above them, whereas he remembered hunkering down under an overhang. Most of the night had been a smear of adrenaline soaked panic, but he clearly remembered the last hour or so of his night, once the frenzy and stress waned. But he knew he was currently sitting in a different location than where he had fallen asleep. It seemed to be a room to the side of the main chamber, connecting with a crumbling stone arch. Certainly not what he remembered. No, there had been a staircase leading to a small landing, then continuing on to the darkness of the dungeons. He remembered the way Noctis would stiffen every time Ignis's attention would shift to the shadows below. He remembered opening a magic flask on top of an ornate brass plate on the landing. And above all, he remembered the flickering light playing against the pale expanse of Noctis's scarred back that made heat rise in his cheeks and threatened to rip the iron will from Ignis's grasp.

But there were no stairs in this room. There was no magic flask or even a sign that there had ever been a downpour save for Noctis's damp shirt that clung to his form where it belonged. The eerie red glow of runes had faded with the dawn, leaving only cold, dead stone. This was, without a doubt, not where he had remembered taking refuge. It was as if a fever dream had warped his reality, weaving his overactive imagination with reality until it was hard to distinguish the two. The whole memory fragmented as he began to doubt himself. Had it not been for the intense ache in his body, he would have written off the whole incident as a part of his too-vivid nightmare.

Noctis snapped awake and jerked his arm back to strike the weight of Ignis’s arm from his shoulders as he surged forward. Ignis's arm slammed back into the wall with a dull thud, his knuckles scraping across the stone. Noctis was on his feet several paced away before Ignis open his mouth to utter a curse. Ignis pulled his arm into his lap, rubbing at the newly torn skin and attempted to find his voice around the knot that threatened to steal it away. Noctis’s reaction wasn’t unprecedented. Ignis had learned long ago that being too close to the prince when he awoke from a nightmare could easily earn you a fist or elbow in an unfortunate location. It had been a hard learned lesson.

“Nightmares?” Ignis asked. His voice scratched against his throat as he spoke.

Noctis turned, gaze falling on his adviser. Those bright blue eyes pierced through him as if they expected someone or something else in Ignis’s place. The look that wormed its way inside Ignis's chest and tried to rip out his still beating heart. Fear. Unadulterated fear.  And for a moment, Ignis was afraid, too. He was afraid that Noctis had suffered a head wound that warped his reality and made him see daemons where there were none. He was afraid Noctis would turn and run him through in a fit of panic. Ignis cursed himself. It was careless to allow Noctis to fall asleep before he knew the true extent of the damage, he should not have fallen asleep himself. Why did he fall asleep? Another tense second passed and then it faded and the adrenaline ebbed. Noctis folded in on himself, bracing his hands on his knees as he gulped in air.

"Y-yeah, just a nightmare." Noctis's voice was quiet, abashed. He straightened and turned to face Ignis and did his best to keep his countenance passive, as if he wasn't nearly as shaken as he had let on. He scanned Ignis’s form slouched against the wall as if he was taking note of his condition. Eventually he noticed the scraped knuckles and flushed with embarrassment.

“A-ah, sorry. Did I…? I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

"Oh, no. I have been awake... long enough to be rather perturbed by  the state of things." Ignis admitted. Noctis's brow furrowed as he began to drag his gaze across Ignis's form, as if he immediately worried for Ignis’s own physical health. He could tell Noctis saw his weariness, how the chill of the night hadn't quite left him and his muscles never seemed to relax. He felt, perhaps, worse off than the night previous. He may have slept, but it had absolutely not been restful. Not to mention it had been too many hours since his last Ebony.

Noctis had began to notice the discrepancies between his memory and his current situation. He tugged awkwardly at his shirt collar as he turned. The cogs seemed to grind to a halt and Noctis's mouth opened and closed a few times before he managed to collect his thoughts well enough to form a coherent sentence.

"Long enough to put my shirt back on and move us somewhere else?"

Ignis shook his head. He’d figured Noctis had awoken and replaced his shirt to ward off the cold. This new revelation didn’t sit well at all. His attempts to explain it away didn’t quite ease his discomfort.

"I'm afraid not. I was rather hoping you had an explanation.” He shared a significant look with Noctis, “And with that unsettling mystery set to haunt my dreams for a few weeks…  We both seem to have retained most of our faculties. You’ll forgive me if I request we leave this place behind us, whatever the case.” Ignis struggled to his feet, feeling every tense muscle strain against the movement. He carded a hand through his ruined coif, having no choice but to let the hair fall gracelessly over his brow. “I am certain Prompto and Gladio await us at the Haven if you feel well enough to travel."

"Okay... cool." Noctis nodded as he took another look around. His discomfort was palpable. He held a hand out to Ignis and helped him from the floor, "Let’s get the hell out of here, huh?"

 

In the light of day, the forest surrounding the ruins took on a whole new character. Gone were the haunting shadows and screams of daemons, replaced instead by gentle chirps and rustling of wind through the trees. Beyond the tower's threshold laid a path winding down into a wide courtyard that was slowly being swallowed by nature. Stubborn vines held brick together in place of mortar and trees filled in gaps between sections of a great wall that once encircled the tower. Had the terror of the night weighed so heavily on him, Ignis would have found it rather serene.

Unfortunately, the landscape was entirely unfamiliar. Night had stolen away both footpath and landmark, leaving them lost and turned around. From here, there was no sign of their path, the haven, or the Regalia. The pace Ignis set the night before had been agonizingly slow, but his attention had been anywhere but his surroundings. But the path before them that lead beyond the wall seemed as good a choice as any. He descended the steps of the tower, Noctis trailing behind.

Ignis stared down the path, the rigid line of his back showing far more weariness than he was comfortable revealing around his Prince. After all they'd been through, last night had taken more than just a physical toll on him. The weight of the world had settled like a noose about Ignis's neck. He had long ago taken a vow to look out for the Chosen King and protect him, and Ignis could not shake the feeling that he'd come dangerously close to failing. His recklessness had nearly brought about an untimely end to not only his charge, but two others he cherished. And now two were missing, and the other was only alive by the grace of the Astrals.

Ignis's jaw clenched tight, agitating yet another screaming pain.

"H-hey, Ignis?" Noctis began as he jogged up beside him, grasping his elbow gently and pulling him aside, "Are you... are you okay?"

Ignis didn't reply. He almost felt like he couldn't. He could lie, as he usually did and dismiss the question with a 'I'm fine.' He knew Noctis would accept the answer for what it was, a dismissal, and speak no more of it, or he could tell the truth and risk further dampening the already downtrodden and apprehensive mood. Ignis lifted his fingers to the bridge of his nose to adjust his glasses. An automatic response to stress. Finding his glasses absent, he moved instead to flick the hair from his eyes and pulled his arm gently from Noctis's grasp as he pressed onward again. He kept his slightly blurred vision on the path before him, doing his best to pick out which path he may have tread.

Noctis's expectant stare never wavered, even as Ignis ushered him suddenly to the left, off the path. The chittering of thousands of legs faded into the distance, and the swarm of Hundlegs went about their business, completely unaware of their presence. Ignis was in no mood to fight. He'd much rather take a longer path around than have to cut his way through more trouble. Not now, and never again if he had the choice.

"I'm fine." Ignis said finally, his voice flat. There was far more to worry about than how he was feeling. He'd deal with that later, after he knew everybody was safe.

"Bullshit."

Ignis had truly not expected Noctis to call him out. The tone in the Prince's voice startled him into a dead halt and Noctis stepped in front of him, hand coming up to grab Ignis's shoulder and hold him in place. Ignis floundered for words for a moment before hanging his head. Noctis continued in the absence of a reply,

"We've been friends for long enough for me to know when you're lying to me. Just because you decided to hide behind some wall once your duty became more important than our friendship doesn't mean that I don't still know you. Something's eating you, Specs."

Ignis stood still, looking through Noctis as he considered his words. The noose tightened. Ignis's nails dug into the flesh of his palms, but he forced himself to reply this time.

"Of course, you are right. My apologies, Highness." He said, mimicking his usual calm. But he said nothing else, pressing passed Noctis. The scowl of disapproval did not pass below his notice.

Noctis followed in somewhat strained silence as they continued on. Guilt weighed heavy on Ignis's shoulders the longer they walked. He had hoped that brushing it off would save Noctis the worry, but he could feel the agitation in Noctis's step that told him that the plan had backfired tremendously.  The awful feeling in his gut had not eased, and he found that he could not easily assign words to it.

It wasn't until glowing runes and a steady stream of smoke flickered between the thick boughs that Ignis finally decided to speak again. If Gladio and Prompto were waiting for them, he did not feel right bearing his heart to them as well.

"I miss paperwork." His voice was a murmur, almost drowned out by the rustling of brush underfoot. Noctis snorted, assuming he'd heard entirely the wrong thing, but quieted when Ignis continued, "I'm serious. I miss endless meetings and summarizing political reports... Used to be my biggest worry was how long it had been since you last ate a proper meal or if you'd found time to do homework amid all the reports."

Noctis looked at him, catching the edge of a brief smile that never quite reached his eyes. Noctis lowered his gaze and stuffed his hands in his pockets, as if he knew where this conversation was going. Ignis probably could have stopped there and got his point across, but Noctis deserved a full answer, didn't he?

"I thought I was going to lose you last night. I thought my carelessness had taken the rest of my family from me. I would give anything to return to a time when I didn't know how that feels." The words were difficult to say, and only scratched the surface of his guilt, but it would have to do. Despite how well versed he was with words, Ignis could never find the right ones to explain how much Noctis meant to him. Most of them had lost everything the day Insomnia fell, and if he lost Noctis... He could not bear the thought.

Noctis stopped in his tracks and grabbed at the fabric at the small of Ignis’s back, halting his progress. Ignis turned, casting a curious eye at his charge.

“Don’t.” Noctis began, “You can’t put this on yourself. Some things are even beyond your control, Specs.” He pulled Ignis around to face him.

Ignis looked down into Noctis’s stern face. Noctis’s full attention was on him and he felt entirely exposed, like Noctis could see every word he’d carefully left unsaid. He cast his eyes away, picking a spot on Noctis’s left shoulder to rest his eyes instead. But still he could feel himself being pinned by those bright blue eyes. Noctis’s hand was searing against his elbow where it rested and he had to swallowed around the lump forming in his throat.

“Noct—”

“You’re always taking the blame when things go wrong… None of this is your fault, okay?” Noctis’s hand dropped from Ignis’s elbow, and Ignis watched as Noctis continued on ahead.

* * *

 

The Haven was empty. The fire pit was cold and looked as if it had not been used in days. There was no sign of their companions save for a small scrap of paper pinned under a piece of stone near the middle of the camp. Ignis held it gently in his hand, careful to not let the sopping wet thing fall apart in his grasp. With the rain having had its way with the scratches of blue ink, the writing was hardly legible anymore. It could have belonged to their missing friends, but it was impossible to say for sure.

'Couldn't wait longer. Meet us in Cauthess.' was all that was scrawled on the note. The letters bled together and seemed to tremble in his imperfect vision. He couldn’t help but mourn the loss of both pairs of spectacles. Still, Ignis supposed the colored blotches of text resembled Gladio’s inelegant handwriting, but with no signature and no way to tell when the thing was written, all he could do was hope.  But it was still a shred of hope that they had survived the night and were safe. The worry bubbled up horribly again, threatening to pry open his ribs and rip the heart from his chest. Before now, he hadn’t truly spared a moment to consider their companions. Last he’d seen them, they were drawing off no less than three daemons. Three powerful daemons at that. But Ignis had managed to slip by largely unnoticed with his precious cargo, certainly two battle hardened warriors could hold their own. Noctis would know if they’d have been in mortal danger, right? Did their bond to the crystal even work like that? Ignis worried the paper between his fingers until the letters began to bleed together and nothing but a large blotch remained. And then he pushed the worry down once more and quickly closed the lid before his stoic indifference could waver again.

“Why didn't they just call...?” Noctis said, drawing his phone from one of his many pockets. Fingers grazed along the darkened screen, tracing the long crack across its surface. He tapped at it a few times, but there was no response on the display. The power button provided no help, either. He huffed a quiet and resigned ‘oh,’ and slid the broken device back into its resting place. The Prince’s phone seemed an utter loss.

Ignis patted his person in search of his own mobile. Each pocket in turn was empty save for a small handful of gil and pocket lint. It was not on him, nor was his jacket for that matter. Had he left it in the car…?

"I suppose we should consider heading to Cauthess, then.” Ignis said as he carefully folded the damp paper into a small square and shoved it in his pocket, loathe to allow even this small piece of litter to sully the haven. “It is a rather long walk, however. Shall we salvage some supplies from the Regalia before we head out.” Ignis watched Noctis slide down off the damp stone, heavily favoring his right leg. It was far too optimistic to think that he had remain unaffected by his childhood injury. If the crash alone had not agitated it, certainly the frenzied use of his magic surely would have. Noctis was trying his best to seem unaffected, no doubt trying to prove how tough he really was. But there was nobody around that he needed to prove anything to. Ignis could see the weariness reflected in Noctis’s gait, he’d carried his unconscious body through the woods, and taken care of him during the lowest times, but never once had he seen the young man as anything less than spectacular.

“Or we could rest here and see if they return. I could certainly use more rest.” Ignis said, deciding to give Noctis a way out with his ego intact. Noctis turned to him, giving him a searching look before shaking his head.

“If you need to stop, we can. But… I think I can make it if you can.”

“Indeed. I follow your lead, Highness.”

 

The sun sat at its zenith by the time the forest gave way and the road stretched out before them. Ignis would readily admit that the sight of modern civilization, though quiet as it remained, still brought a small amount of comfort. They followed the road for a time until they came to an intersection.

It looked different in the daylight. Though that was not hard considering Ignis recalled only snapshots, vignetted by blind panic. Rain on glass, a hulking form in the headlights, a shining blade, a metal barricade. The only way he was even aware they were in the right place was the mangled remains of the barricade.

Ignis and Noctis stood next to the mass of twisted metal, staring off into the undergrowth. Neither man said a word for several minutes as they surveyed the scene before them.

There was nothing but empty forest. In place of the royal vehicle was naught but mud and broken saplings.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are going to be a bit slower than I would like, as real life has a way of messing with schedules. I have some exciting art projects in the works that are absolutely interfering with fun stuff, but such is life, yes?  
> I intended to add illustration headers to a few of these chapters, and maybe when I have time I will still do so.
> 
> But I do have a question for you dear readers in regards to tagging. Would you rather I tag all the content I intend to write now and not get you invested in something you're not down for, or do I keep you in suspense until it is relevant? What do you prefer?


	4. A Day Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis and Ignis seem to be out of the woods now for now. It seems that their bad luck isn't quite over, but a coincidental meeting with a familiar face seems to set them back on the right path.

###  **Four: A Day Away**

Noctis was still exhausted. He’d been moments away from stasis before that Red Giant laid hands on him, and he was still feeling the effects. He’d laid it on far too thick with the magic, not to mention that whole… being knocked out twice thing. The Phoenix down had helped them avoid any emergencies, but they’d never be able to replace proper care. At this moment, that’s absolutely not something they’d had access to, and both of them were feeling it. Noctis’s leg felt like it was shredding itself apart. The old wound made worse by the Giant’s crushing grip. It felt bruised and sort of out of place. Along with his back, they were conspiring to bring him down, and doing a rather good job of it. Ignis was more than understanding when Noctis had to take a break, even if it was taking much longer to get to their destination than originally intended. And despite his best efforts, Noctis was forced to take several between his back, his knee, and his oddly lingering stasis. And each time he’d get back on his feet his body would protest more and more until he wasn’t sure he would be able to get back up.

Hours had passed, and many miles lay behind them. Noctis would have sworn that the rest area was much closer than this. But… it wasn’t the first time they’d painfully misjudged distances on their map.  The forest had long since faded into the background, replaced instead by vast, cratered grasslands with the dim glow of the Meteor in the distance. Before them rose the Duscae arches that towered over the small Cauthess outpost. Instead of being a source of awe, however, they were more relief than anything else. It was a promise of civilization, of rest and food and an end to aching legs. And yet Noctis found himself doubting he would be able to make it without Ignis carrying him over the threshold like a blushing bride. He stared at the town, still a mile away, and groaned. He had set himself down on a rock, knee locked straight in front of him, burning with overuse. He clutched at his knee, trying to rub the ache from his bones.

As if on cue, Ignis appeared in front of him, concern in his steady gaze. There was no reason to ask what was wrong, it was pretty damn obvious. Ignis knelt as he gripped the finger of his glove in his teeth and pulled his hand free. He removed the other, then pushed Noctis’s hands away as he replaced them with his own. Noctis could almost feel his cheeks flush. Could he not? The fabric was pushed up over Noctis’s knee and Ignis’s warm hands wrapped around the joint. His exposed thumbs smoothed over the heated skin on either side of the kneecap and rubbed at familiar tension points, taut tendons and the silky skin behind his knee. Noctis flinched a little as the muscle and tendons protested, but Ignis would smooth them over with a softer touch and help ease the pain. Had it been anybody else, Noctis would have pulled away instantly, but there was no urge to do so with Ignis.  It’d been a while since he’d last allowed Ignis to do this, finding himself a bit self-conscious around Prompto and Gladio. But it felt good now knowing that there was no judgment or pity, just an old routine. And it felt… well, it felt good. Soon enough the pain ebbed away under his chamberlain’s patient and almost… prurient ministrations.

That particular line of thought was a new one, but he couldn’t shake it as he watched his friend’s long fingers massage the meat of his calf. It seemed so out of place among the otherwise mundane and innocent task to the point where Noctis physically recoiled, making Ignis pause.

“Better now?” Ignis asked, as he pulled his hands away and tugged the pant leg back down. Noctis realized then that he’d splayed a hand over his mouth and nose, hiding the rising color in his cheeks. Why was he even blushing in the first place?

“Yeah. I think I can make it now…” Noctis replied quietly. His knee did feel a lot better. The muscles unlocked for Ignis as easily as they ever had. And if Noctis was being honest, he was seriously considering bargaining for more later. His back could use some serious work. Noctis rose to his feet, testing his weary legs. He still felt somewhat unsteady, but the knee no longer popped and locked up when he put weight on it, so that was a win. He moved ahead of Ignis as they began walking again, hoping the red in his cheeks had gone unnoticed.

  
  


It had not been that long since they last saw civilization, but it felt like much, much longer. No doubt the two mud-caked and limping men nearly crawling into town gave that impression. Noctis didn’t seriously mind the looks they got as they passed apartment balconies filled with tenants enjoying their early evening activities. Ignis, however, withered a little. Between the rips in their clothes and the dire need for a bath, Noctis figured Ignis was just about on the verge of a panic attack being seen in public so unkempt. He couldn’t keep his fingers from absently scratching at the mud on his sleeve as they walked, though. Noctis couldn’t help but notice the subtle limp that his adviser had been trying to hide, just as he tried to hide everything else that would have his companions worry. Noctis’s own leg had been giving him trouble, as it normally did when he’d push himself beyond his limits. He knew intimately the urge to suppress the limp and soldier on as if nothing was wrong. So he also knew that Ignis was in moderate pain, and the blood stained gash in his pant leg left no mystery as to why.

“Noct?” Ignis began, putting his hand gently on Noctis’s elbow and drawing his eyes from the torn fabric, “Why don’t you continue on to the Crow’s Nest and get some food? I’ll try to procure lodgings.” He dug into his pocket, retrieving what change he could. It certainly was not the small fortune he’d been saving up for their surprise vacation at Galdin Quay, but it may feed one of them. Noctis felt a pang of pity in his gut just thinking about the lost Gil. Ignis had worked hard for that surprise, and now it was lost right along with his father’s car. 

“Yeah sure. Don’t keep me waiting too long or I can’t guarantee there’ll be any left for you.” Noctis gave Ignis a cheeky grin and closed his hand around the few gil Ignis could spare.

Ignis’s hand lingered for a second at his elbow as he was given a once-over with a soft, but slightly disapproving pout. He pulled away and folded his arms before he spoke again.

“Well, at least try to act princely so they don’t mistake you for a vagabond and run us out of town.” 

Noctis waved off the comment and turned toward the diner.

“Ah— and Noct?” Ignis called out, “Please be sure to—”

“—Watch for Gladio and Prompto, yeah. Will do.”

 

Entering the Crow’s Nest diner was the exact same experience each and every time. The smell of cooking meat and hot oil, the Justice Monsters V music barely overcome by the radio news report creating a slight cacophony of sensation that bordered on discomfort. Noctis slid passed a couple as they rose from a booth. They spared him nary a glance, and most other patrons followed suit. Either they were purposely avoiding his gaze or they were no strangers to ragged hunters dragging themselves over the threshold. Noctis made his way down the length of the diner to the far end where the noise of the pinball machine and radio were a little less intense. The booths were taken, leaving the bar the only option left to him.

“Looking a bit rough there, boy.” The man behind the counter turned his attention to Noctis the moment he slid into one of the bar stools. “Been out on a hunt, have you?”

“Ah— y-yeah? Well, no...” Noctis admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, “Not around here, anyway. Just had a rough night up in the Fallgrove.”

“I hear tell of some nasty critters up there. You hunters do good work. Dunno where we’d be without ya.” He placed a bottle of Jetty’s on the table in front of Noctis. A pity gift. A welcome one, sure, but he must truly look like shit. “Can I get anything started for ya?”

Noctis ordered a plate of fries and a cup of coffee, leaving only a few gil left in his possession. The daily paper was placed in front of him, which Noctis immediately tossed onto the seat next to him to await Ignis.

Noctis took a minute to look about the diner. People occupied most of the tables, mostly warehouse workers too lazy after a long day to cook their own meals, and a trio of hunters talking about their big hunt in the morning, but no familiar faces.

“Excuse me?” Noctis said, raising his hand as if he was trying to get a teacher’s attention. The chef turned around, his customer service face on full blast. “Hey, sorry. Uh… I’m actually looking for some friends. Have you seen any other hunters come through today?”

“Hmm… no, just those fellas.” The chef replied, gesturing over Noctis’s shoulder. “Had some come in a few days ago lookin’ like drowned rats, though.”

Noctis furrowed his brow and cast another glance at the hunters as if they might have transformed into the other half of his retinue when he wasn’t looking. Nope. Still just your every-day sort of hunter. “Oh… Well, thanks anyway.” 

Noctis screwed his face into a brooding scowl and leaned forward in his seat to rest his head on his arms, face down. He was slightly put out by the news, but not exactly surprised. If Gladio and Prompto had come through here, they’d have been broke as well. They’d probably have gone straight for the caravan and crashed there. In that case, Ignis would probably find them and drag them over here. But there was always that nagging worry in the back of his mind, a little voice that whispered things he’d really rather not dwell on. What if they never made it out? What if the Empire snatched them? How could two people and a car just vanish over night?

Noctis startled when he heard a voice to his right, and he found himself opening his eyes, though he didn’t recall ever closing them.

“Thank you.” Ignis muttered as a cup of coffee was set on the counter in front of him along with a plate of fries. Noctis shifted his face in his arms and looked up at Ignis. His face was drawn and he tapped absently on the face of his mug. Eventually Ignis turned his attention to Noctis and they gazed at each other for a moment as each tried to read the mood of the other. 

The green eyes that met his own looked almost defeated, like a kicked puppy in fear of another blow. It struck something in Noctis and his chest felt tight. He could only guess at what sort of self-deprecating thoughts Ignis was still allowing to run rampant. Noctis felt a pang of guilt. He had no idea what he could do to comfort Ignis. If he asked, Ignis was likely to just  brush it off and turn the situation around until Ignis was the one doting again.

Ignis was the first to tear his gaze away once the moment started to stretch into awkward territory. But he didn’t speak.

“What’s up?” Noctis said, his voice muffled slightly by his sleeve. “You look like shit.”

“Ever the flatterer.” Ignis said and huffed, half amused. “I’m afraid you must bear with me for a while longer. The caravan is unavailable.”

Noctis sat up and turned his head toward the group of hunters in the corner. There was little doubt that they were the culprits.

“Yeah, and it doesn’t really sound like they’ll be giving it up tonight, either. I guess there’s always those warehouses…”

Ignis hummed as he took a long swig of coffee. As he drew the mug away from his lips, he looked down at it with a disapproving grimace. 

“Or hijack a car.” He said after a moment.

Tired or not, Noctis couldn’t help but laugh. Ignis looked at him. A smile was hidden behind the rim of the mug, but his eyes crinkled at the corners the way they did every time he smiled.

“Wouldn’t be the first time, I guess. Did Gladio ever forgive you for that?”

“Oh, in time. I can be rather… persuasive.” Ignis chuckles, realizing how suggestive the statement could be taken. And considering the history between Ignis and Gladio, it was hard to tell if he was actually joking or not.

Noctis narrowed his eyes in mock revulsion and plucked a fry from the plate before them and flicked at Ignis. It flopped harmlessly against his arm and landed on the table.

“Just don’t go using those ‘persuasion’ tactics on me.” Noctis grabbed another fry and shook it threateningly in his advisor’s direction. Ignis chuckled.

“No? Shame. I hear they are rather effective.” 

“Maybe try on those other hunters and see if you can convince them to give up the caravan tonight?”

Ignis laughed in his quiet, reserved way and shook his head. It wasn’t like Ignis to talk someone out of their accommodations for his own comfort, but Noctis was fairly certain that he would for Noctis’s sake if he asked nice enough. He was tempted, sure. A bed, even if it did double as a seat most of the time, sounded much nicer than the ground. Maybe those hunters would be willing to share.

“So… what’s the plan, really?” Noctis pulled another fry from the pile and nibbled at the end. He watched Ignis carefully lower the mug and set it down with a sigh. He tapped his long fingers against it before sliding it away, still awaiting a refill.

“To be honest, I don’t know. I don’t see too many options for us beyond walking to the next town or perhaps attempting to catch a ride. Though…” Ignis trailed and looked around the diner before he continued, “I am loathe to leave until we figure out where Prompto and Gladio are.”

“You boys talking about Amicitia?” A familiar voice said from behind them. Both Ignis and Noctis turned and were greeted by an equally familiar face.

“Oh, Professor Yaegre. What a pleasant surprise.” As always, Ignis had managed to come up with the woman’s name far quicker than Noctis could even react. One of his many talents, he supposed.

“Oh, well if it isn’t my protege! I almost didn’t recognize you what with the mud and the flat hair.” She waved her arms in their general direction. Ignis blanched.

“I thought you were headed up to Meldacio. What brings you back here?” Noctis asked, though he realized his mistake a little too late, and Sania launched into a very detailed monologue that largely made no sense to Noctis. If Ignis was struggling to follow, he wasn’t showing it. He nodded politely, one leg crossed elegantly over the other and his hands positioned in such a way that made him look far more invested than he actually was. Yet another talent.

As it turned out, Sania had an apartment in the area, just a relatively short term arrangement while she moved about the country doing whatever it was she did. All Noctis knew is that it involved him trampling through swamps in search of frogs. She had returned to set her business in order after Ravatogh and was just on her way out to Meldacio.

Her appearance was like a blessing sent down from The Six. After some thirty minutes of back and forth between Ignis and Sania that Noctis was absolutely not paying attention to, the Professor was suddenly dropping a key and and an old model Libraphone into his hand before moving off to one of the other booths to strike up a conversation with some other patrons.

“What just happened? I think I fell asleep.” Noctis blinked at the items now in his possession.

“You didn’t catch a single word of that conversation, did you?” Ignis didn’t really need to ask, and Noctis’s face told the answer more eloquently than his voice ever could.

“I caught something about not having to sleep behind the Crow’s Nest?”

“Indeed. You would come away with that particular piece of information, wouldn’t you? No matter, it seems fate is on our side today. Professor Yeagre has entrusted the care of her apartment to us for the night, and the use of her mobile for a moment to try to contact our friends.”

“Talk about coincidence. How the hell did you manage that? She doesn’t even know us.” Noctis deposited the key in front of Ignis and poked at the phone’s screen.

“I seem to have two things you lack; A modicum of attention and charm.” Ignis said, the hint of a smile still playing on his lips. He dropped the key into his shirt pocket and plucked the phone from Noctis’s hands.

“Nuh-uh.” Noctis pulled the phone away from Ignis and turned his back, hunching protectively over the device as he continued to punch Prompto’s phone number, “You’ve done enough and haven’t eaten a bite.” 

Noctis stood and moved outside, away from the eyes and ears of the Crow’s Nest patrons. The phone trilled in his ear again and again until Noctis started to think that nobody would answer. Obviously the phone was functional, or it wouldn’t ring at all, right? Maybe he couldn’t answer… maybe he would never answer.

He chewed on a nail. The phone rang again. Noctis’s nail gave way under his teeth. He shifted the phone, ready to end the call when the ringing stopped and a timid voice answered.

“Uh— Hello?”

“Hey, Prom—”

“Oh Shit, Noct!” 

Noctis could hear Gladio interject in the background, apparently cursing his name to the six and trying to get his annoyance and relief across behind Prompto’s excited rambling.

“Where have you been, buddy?! We were worried sick about you. I mean we sort of figured your phones were gonzo when not even Iggy would pick up, but you never showed up at the haven! We looked for hours man, and then you never showed up in Cauthess and we had to beg Cindy to come drag the car out of the mud and we were worried sick about you, man!”

Noctis couldn’t reply. He felt like puzzle pieces were strewn all across the board, bits that he thought fit together suddenly didn’t anymore. He vaguely heard Prompto call his name before he spoke again.

“How… how could you have done that all in one night?”

“Noct, you’ve been missing for days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for this taking some time. I kept going back and editing things, so now I have decided to post this chapter so I can't do that anymore. lol It has been a literal decade since I last wrote fanfiction, so saying I am self-conscious is an understatement.
> 
> I think I am mostly done with chapter 5, so that should be coming fairly soon. not sure if that one is going to contain sexual content, but I am pretty sure chapter 6 will. So, heads up, lots of new tags and probably a rating change to come.


	5. Exhale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get a moment of respite, but Ignis is still on edge, and Noctis is not helping.

###  **Five: Exhale**

Sania’s apartment was nothing if not basic. It was barely more than a studio, scarcely decorated and not a single ounce of personality in the place. Noctis had seen better decor in a two-bit hotel room if he was being honest. And maybe that’s all it really was; a room with a new owner every few weeks. Still, Noctis was grateful for it. He could not think of anything more conveniently timed than Sania’s arrival and subsequent departure. She’d given them full run of the place— access to spare clothes and whatever food she decided to leave behind. It was, to say the least, a small miracle. It was no three star hotel with room service, but it was better than literally every other alternative. Even camping was better than the caravans half the time. At least here they had a clean, functional shower and stove, and the sofa was stuffed with something other than fist-sized rocks.

And that’s where Ignis stood. He leaned heavily against the arm rest, one leg crossed over the other and his folded arms pulled tight against his chest. His gaze was low and unseeing as he retreated into his own thoughts. Noctis watched him for a bit, watched how he crossed and re-crossed his long legs with a nervous energy he hadn’t seen in ages. His elegant fingers played idly with the rip in his sleeve. He hadn’t really said a thing since the conversation with Prompto. He’d returned the phone and allowed Sania to escort them to her apartment and gather her things in virtual silence, leaving Noctis to fill the void as best he could. The news hit Ignis hard, much harder than Noctis. He didn’t have to ask to know why.

Ignis was, to put it lightly, somewhat of a control freak. His life was built on finely crafted schedules and knowing the location of each piece on the board. In their younger years, Noctis saw it as much more of a curse than a blessing, to the point of contention. It was difficult to ditch practice and hang out at the arcade when you could hardly take a piss without Ignis knowing. Noctis could see how going missing for a few days might feel like the end of the world to a man like that. And now he looked so… disappointed. Distracted by the scenarios running through his head of everything that had gone wrong, no doubt beating himself up over every tiny misstep that led them here. Noctis wasn’t about to allow that; not ever, especially after everything Ignis must have gone through to keep him safe.

He tossed himself onto the sofa at Ignis’s side, sinking into the comfortable cushions and folding his hands over his stomach. Ignis’s thousand yard stare disintegrated and his attention immediately shifted to Noctis. And then he smiled, the first in, well… days. It was radiant and comforting and so unexpected that Noctis found himself having to look away. 

“What’s that look for?” He fidgeted slightly in his place with the sheer weight of Ignis’s eyes on him.

“Oh—” Ignis flushed a little as he turned his gaze away, “It’s nothing. I was just thinking…” He trailed off, long fingers tracing across his brow. His cheeks seemed a little more pink that usual.

“So…” Noctis began, drumming his fingers against his forearm, “…what’s on your mind?” 

Ignis cocked his head to the side and sighed. His smile faded and the room almost felt colder for it, ”In the morning, I believe we will want to find transportation back to Hammerhead. Prompto said Cindy already has the Regalia in her shop. Sounds as if they were able to recover most of our possessions. From there, however… I find myself a bit out of my depth. Every fiber of my being is telling me to go back and account for that lost time.”

“That— that’s not what I—” Another expert dodge from his adviser. Getting him to say what he was truly thinking was like pulling teeth. Whatever was distracting him, Ignis obviously wasn’t going to talk about it, “I mean, is it really big enough of a deal to go all the way back there? I’ve had my fill, personally.”

Ignis shifted uncomfortably next to Noctis on the sofa, crossing and uncrossing his legs before finally pulling himself to his feet and pacing across the room. Noctis watched him stalk silently across the small apartment, picking at a small tear in his sleeve. It was hard seeing Ignis so lost. Rarely did his stoicism waver so.

“How do you stand it, Noct?” Ignis said at last, as he stood over the kitchen sink at the far end of the room, peering out the dingy window to the hills beyond, “You are quite accustomed to waking up someplace other than where you fell asleep.”

Noctis couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from his gut. He had no ground to refute that accusation, and he knew it. Ignis turned a curious eye and studied Noctis for a brief moment before his surly mien dissolved into a soft smile. He turned his back to the window and leaned against the kitchen sink.

“Look, It takes hard work and practice to get this good at mundane shit. In all honesty… I guess it can be a bit disorienting, but I also know that you guys are always watching my back, so I know I don’t really have to worry about it.”

“Well, I cannot promise I was there to protect you this time. I cannot shake this bad feeling. A lot can happen in a day— Suppose the Empire got their hands on you.”

“You’re really struggling with this, aren’t you?”

“It is my job to keep you safe and I fai—”

“—No, Ignis. You didn’t fail. I’m here, aren’t I? I am in one solid piece and none the worse for wear, as you’d say. So why are you so upset?”

“Highness… I—”

“—Don’t.” Noctis put his hand up in warning. He could practically see Ignis’s walls being raised again. He had a habit of using titles instead of names as a way of distancing himself when he felt any sort of emotion.

Ignis sat quietly for a moment, that scowl set heavy on his brow again. He looked so profoundly uncomfortable standing there, his fingers drumming against the counter. Noctis wasn’t as good as Ignis was at the whole ‘comforting’ thing. He’d rarely needed to comfort Ignis— he was always the role model, unstoppable force to Noctis’s immovable object. What were you supposed to do when the unstoppable began to falter?

Noctis was on his feet faster than he’s fully resolved himself to an action. There was something Ignis wasn’t saying, and he was doing his best to build up his walls and make it impossible to reach him. Noctis had to reach through the wall before Ignis could close him off— he couldn’t help if he didn’t know what the problem was.

So far withdrawn into his thoughts, his eagle-eyed adviser didn’t even notice Noctis crossing the living room until they were nearly toe to toe. Ignis shifted, instinctively trying to move out of the prince’s path. Noctis reached out and grabbed Ignis’s elbow, keeping him from getting too far. He watched as Ignis’s eyes looked back at him in shock at their sudden proximity. His expression shifted into worry an instant after, and then settle into a calm sort of something that felt warm, but Noctis couldn’t quite put his finger on the emotion. He had to look away, suddenly very self-conscious of those intense green eyes. He suddenly found it hard to speak— what was he even doing here? It was just a simple hug he wanted, both for himself and for Ignis, but was he supposed to ask? Would Ignis even want that? Neither of them were really the hugging type. Hell, Ignis couldn’t even pose for a proper photo without doing that six-damned hover hand as if their mere contact would set him alight.

“Noct…?” Ignis’s voice was just a breath between them.

“I—uh… I guess I was just wondering if I could—” Noctis stumbled over his words. He felt the blush rise in his cheeks. He was acting like a schoolboy with a crush; he was going to give Ignis the entirely wrong impression. “You just look like you could use… like… a hug or something.”

Ignis placed a hand on Noctis’s shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze before the distance between them vanished. Noctis was enveloped in Ignis’s arms, unyielding yet gentle. It was… not how he assumed it would feel. Gladio’s hugs tended to be one-armed and accompanied with a jostling slap on the back; They tended to feel like a competition of strength rather than a gesture of friendship. Prompto’s hugs were much like trying to wrangle a monkey and somehow made one feel more like a jungle gym than a person. He always just sort of assumed if Ignis ever let down his guard enough to actually hug someone, it would feel as starched as his suit jackets. Granted, maybe it was the current situation, maybe he was channeling the closeness they had in childhood before their lives changed, or maybe Noctis was just wrong about Ignis. He felt, suddenly, entirely safe with Ignis’s arms wrapped about his shoulders, his head tucked up under Ignis’s chin, ear pressed against his chest where he could hear the steady beat of his heart. And Noctis melted into it. The empty ache that lingered since he woke faded into the background, and the chill locked in his bones went with it. Noctis didn’t realize how much -he- needed this, how much he’d yearned for this simple gesture since the moment he stood on that cliff overlooking his home in the pouring rain, watching the remnants of his life slip through his fingers. 

He locked his arms around Ignis’s chest and listened as the heart and lungs fluttered. He felt the breath catch in Ignis’s chest, his heart beat just a little faster. He felt Ignis’s words ruffle his hair as he spoke just barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Thank you, Noct.” Ignis pulled away, holding Noctis at arm’s length with a crooked smile set on his lips. It looked sad, “I am alright, but perhaps…” His fingers tracing along the scruff just barely visible along his jaw, “…I am simply a little uneasy, you understand. I must ask that you consider indulging my curiosity once we get our affairs in order.” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Anything you need. But lets just… relax tonight, okay? We went through a lot of shit and we deserve some R&R.” Noctis backed away, letting Ignis’s hands fall back down to countertop. The air felt heavy with all the words left unsaid. But maybe now wasn’t the time. It had been an exhausting day and it seemed neither of them had the capacity to process their thoughts properly. Ignis just needed time and space.

So Noctis turned away and ambled back into the living room. He rubbed the back of his neck as he went and felt the ache and chill settle back into his body as he moved away from that moment, “I’m going to go—” He shot a gesture at the restroom, “I won’t take all the hot water, promise.” 

Noctis made his way to the small restroom, keen on shucking his ripped and dirt stained clothes and soothing his aches under the hot shower. He was still considering asking for Ignis to work out the most heinous of his knots, but he also didn’t really want Ignis to fret more than he already was.

“Oh, Highness?” Ignis called after him, switching back to work mode as if nothing had happened, “Please put your clothes near the door. I’ll get them washed and repaired and find something clean for you in the meantime.”

Noctis nodded and closed the door behind him. He began to strip his clothes, leaving them in a heap in the corner as Ignis asked. They weren’t in the worst condition, in which he found a little relief. The rain had done most of the heavy lifting after the crash, but some dried mud still clung to the seams. 

His skin, however, didn’t fare quite as well. He inspected the various bruises along his side and back, marveling at the mottled, somewhat unnatural colors left behind from his encounter with the Red Giant. He poked at it gingerly, but felt nothing more than a dull pinch of a healing bruise. He’d taken the Crystal’s magic for granted before, but at the moment he praised its blessing. Without it, that bruise would have hurt like hell for weeks. Or he’d be dead. No, not dead, not with Ignis at his side.

 

* * *

 

 

Ignis sat, perched on one of the kitchen stools, squinting down at the needle in his hand. It had taken him far longer than usual to conduct his repairs with the strands of thread blurring together in his imperfect sight. His mind was in a jumble, tripping over itself between guilt, distress, and worry. How Noctis could brush off the last day— the last few days— as if it was nothing was a complete enigma. They had all come inches from death, and that dark specter had not parted from him since he woke upside down in the Regalia. Fear wasn’t quite the right word for it… Haunted, maybe. And then there was the half-forgotten dream that had startled him awake. A dream of darkness and the growl of daemons in his ear as they picked at their flesh and pulled them apart piece by piece until there was nothing left. Ignis felt like he’d watched Noctis die over and over, and it had hollowed out a piece of him knowing that it would have all been on his hands. Yes, he felt haunted by this dream, a dream that flet more real than the needle in his hand.

Maybe if he could focus on a task, he could feel normal again and get back to routine. But until he could find his focus again, he would have to deal with his shaking hands making it difficult to pierce the fabric where he wanted. Still, he managed what he hoped was a half decent job on Noctis’s clothes.

He’d swapped out the mud crusted clothes for whatever he found left over in the wardrobe. They seemed to be mostly old clothes that had fallen out of favor for one reason or another. The pants he currently wore rode up in the legs, leaving his ankles awkwardly exposed. The shirt he found was a tad snug, and probably intended to be a slim fit for a female, but it still managed to stretch around his larger frame and preserve a semblance of his modesty. They smelled somewhat of mothballs and stale wood, but they would suffice. He hoped the clothes he dredged up for Noctis fit a little better. Still, it was all that was available until their own were repaired and cleaned. He had just started on the process on his own slacks when the bathroom door clicked open.

Ignis nearly jumped out of his chair, startled by the sudden squeal of old hinges. He turned, facing the source of the noise and his breath caught in his throat. There, standing in the doorway was Noctis, fresh from the shower and bare from the waist up. The sweatpants sat low on his slim hips, showing off a more toned physique than he was ever given credit for. The shirt was clutched in one hand, his towel in the other as he rubbed the water from his hair. His shoulders were a gentle shade of pink from the scalding water that Noctis preferred. Scabs and bruises dotted his arms and torso, the ones from the crash were yellowed already, helped along by the Phoenix talisman. But the deep purple bruise spread over Noctis’s side and hips, continuing on passed the hem of his sweatpants. Guilt settled once more in the pit of his stomach. Guilt over his part in placing those bruises, and guilt over how much he desired to soothe away those wounds with fingers and lips. He turned his attention back to the task at hand, trying to will away his selfish and improper thoughts. He began pulling the thread back through the rip in his pant leg and cinched it shut before he began to reinforce it, praying Noctis noticed only a cursory glance in his direction.

“Hey, Iggy?” Noctis began as he settled back on the sofa, “I-uh… I don’t mean to interrupt you or anything, but my back is acting up…?” He didn’t actually have to say more. Ignis was well aware of what that meant, and would honestly have been shocked if Noctis had not complained of some pain. Since he was young, Noct had turned down many masseurs, opting instead for Ignis. He figured it was simply a matter of trust and Noctis’s inherent stubbornness against social interaction.

“A moment, Highness.” Ignis said as he pulled another stitch through the cloth, “If you would find what we need, I will finish up here.” Truth be told, he was hesitant about the task. He told himself it was because he feared hurting Noctis more if he were to press too hard on a bruise or cut, but he knew better. But still he was hesitant, jumpy, and on edge, and knew he was far too exhausted to hold on to the mental fortitude needed to keep his mind off of Noctis. But as always, he would steel himself and push on as he always had, leaving no evidence of his infatuation.

 

Noctis returned a few minutes later, just as Ignis tied off his thread and moved to deposit their clothes into the wash. By the time he was finished, Noctis was splayed face down on the floor with his arms folded under his head. Ignis was well aware of the blue eyes tracking him around the room.

“Would you rather I clean up proper before I begin, Highness? I am sure I will not be the most pleasant smelling person at the moment.” Ignis asked as he approached the prone figure. Noctis made some displeased grunt into the carpet before he pulled his arms in and rose to his elbows.

“It’s cool, you don’t smell that bad. Plus, my back is making way more uncomfortable than you could.”

Ignis conceded with a small huff of amusement and knelt beside Noctis, grabbing the bottle from the coffee table as he went. He squeezed some of the lotion into his hand and rubbed them together to warm it up before turning to Noctis. He hesitated, fingers hovering just over Noctis’s back. He clenched his teeth and gently ran his fingers over the large patches of sickly purple and yellow bruises. It was bad. He silently thanked those missing days if it meant that Noctis wasn’t in pain… or didn’t remember it.

“Its okay, they don’t really hurt.” Noctis said, answering Ignis’s unvoiced question. Ignis could do nothing but trust his word, so he allowed himself to proceed. 

“Fish pose, if you would.” Ignis said as he gently urged Noctis to lay back down. Noctis chuckled and moved himself into the correct position with his arms laid in at his side. As a child, Noctis had joked that it made him feel like a fish as he flopped around, unable to keep his little body still for more than a few minutes at a time. The name sort of just stuck after that.

Noctis’s skin was soft and warm against Ignis’s hands, and he hesitated only a moment before he pressed the heels of his palms into the small of Noctis’s back and ran them up along the junction between his lats and spine, and then splayed out his long fingers against his shoulder blades. The muscles were firm and well defined, carved from years of weapons training and their own shared acrobatic stunts. Gladio would often joke about his scrawny form, but Ignis could feel just how wrong the Shield was. Noctis’s body was more cut and defined than it had ever been. It was distracting. Ignis was about to repeat the motion when Noctis shifted.

“It’s feeling a bit weak on my right side, Iggy. Go a bit harder on that side or like… sit on my legs or something so you’re not all lopsided.” 

“Apologies.” Ignis muttered. With a defeated sigh, he swung a leg over Noctis, kneeling over his thighs in this new position. He pressed his hands into Noctis’s back and smoothed them up either side of his spine again, earning an approving grunt from Noctis. He carefully thumbed at the muscles, feeling each dip and curve as they shifted just under the surface. Knot after knot slipped under his fingertips as he worked his way back down and began to knead the muscle. He’d never felt Noctis’s muscles so tense, not even after the early days of physical therapy when they began this routine. Ignis pressed down harder, rolling a knot under his thumb. Noctis let out a sigh and a soft groan followed.

Ignis’s hand twitched, but he managed to keep himself from pulling back. He was on edge, painfully so, especially in this position. His composure wavered. Having Noctis moaning while Ignis straddled him was not something Ignis had the ability to deal with at the moment. And Noctis didn’t let him off easy as he let another grunt slip. 

“Am I hurting you?” Ignis finally asked, nearly unable to convince himself that Noctis wasn’t playing some cruel joke.

“Not more than usual, I guess. Feels nice, though” Noctis said, his voice partially muffled by the carpet, “Why, am I making you uncomfortable?”

“Of course not. I am simply concerned for your comfort.” A partial lie, of course. The sound of his pleased grunts was making Ignis’s bones itch. He regretting agreeing to Noctis’s demands. Ignis wasn’t one to work in halves. If he was going to do this, he intended to do it right. After all, it could never be as difficult as the first time he gave Noctis a massage after finally putting a name to his feelings for the young Prince. And it certainly was not the first, nor the last time, he had to suppress improper fantasies. Even so, it was a painful twenty minutes.

“You worry too much. I feel a lot better now.” Noctis shifted, prompting Ignis to stand. He held a hand out to Noctis and pulled him to his feet. Noctis squeezed Ignis’s shoulder, a small smile gracing his lips. That crooked grin made Ignis’s heart ache. Noctis grabbed his borrowed shirt and tugged it over his head as he moved away to the kitchen in search of water. Ignis quietly slipped out of the room.

 

A shower is exactly what Ignis needed to relax. The water washed some of the stress away with the dirt and sweat, leaving him feeling absolutely drained. His hands skimmed over his torso, taking stock of his wounds. His fingers caught on several cuts and scabs, but nothing worth worrying over. Merely minor bumps and bruises remained like ghosts of something far more ghastly. The old product was washed from his hair, and he scrubbed at his skin until it was red and irritated, but clean.

Satisfied now, he halted the shower spray and allowed the tub to fill instead. He slid down into the pleasantly warm water, folding his long legs into the too-short basin. He was greeted instantly by the sight of the torn flesh on his leg; a fitting parting gift from the Regalia considering what he had done to her. The wound was visually unpleasant, a ragged and scabbed line up the outside of his shin. It had not healed over well, an obvious sign that it had debris in it when Noctis used his mega phoenix. It would take a lot of elixir treatments to minimize the inevitable scarring.

Ignis sighed and gently prodded at the gash, wary of any pain he might cause. But as his fingers skimmed over the ragged edges, he hardly felt a thing. A slight pressure and a parody of pain, but not what he expected. His eyebrows drew together as he plucked his washcloth from the water and ran it across his leg, wiping away a bit more of the caked on blood. Still there was no discomfort. He pressed harder and scrubbed at it instead, insistent that he should be feeling some amount of pain there. But even as new, small droplets of blood escaped from the now clean wound, all he felt was a dull ache, hardly distinguishable from the rest of his body.

He watched the blood well for a moment before he wrapped it with the washcloth and moved his leg to rest on the lip of the tub where it could rest out of the way. Now was not the time to worry about that, he told himself, now he needed all the peace and relaxation he could steal.  He sank down a little further into the water and closed his eyes. There would be fires to extinguish in the morning, for now he had this.

 

* * *

 

 

The evening passed quick, and it was already dark by the time Ignis’s evening chores were finished. His wounds were cleaned and properly wrapped, clothing was repaired and cleaned and hung to dry, and Noctis was exactly where Ignis expected. He lay on his back, leg dangling off the sofa and breathing softly in sleep. It was an unfitting place for Noctis to sleep in his condition. Ignis sighed and moved to his side and gently shook his shoulder. 

The only response he gave was a sleepy grunt.

“Noct? I’m going to pick up up now, alright?” Ignis said, hopeful that Noctis was at least somewhat aware of the warning. Once he received yet another half-hearted grunt, Ignis slid an arm under Noctis’s shoulders and the other behind his knees and hefted him up off the sofa. Noctis all but curled into Ignis’s chest, fingers grasping at the front of his borrowed shirt. 

He walked carefully to the bed, kneeling on the edge slightly as he placed Noctis carefully in the center. True to form, Noctis was undisturbed and simply curled up the second he hit the mattress. Ignis tossed a blanket over top of the sleeping prince and it was immediately consumed in Noctis’s grip. Ignis lingered, half kneeling on the bed. Noctis’s face was lax and soft, and Ignis could not help but trace his fingers above Noctis’s brow and sweep the stray locks of hair from his eyes. Once again, he was spellbound. His heart thrummed in his chest as his mind raced through each ‘I wish’ or ‘what if’ one after the other. Then Noctis rolled onto his side and the spell broke. Ignis retreated.

 

The sofa was somewhat small— more of a loveseat than a sofa. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to serve as his bed for the evening. He did not mind; it was likely more comfortable than the foam mats they used while camping, though he did worry about his legs cramping as he folded himself onto the narrow sofa. 

Unlike for Noctis, sleep did not come to Ignis easily. Finding a comfortable position on the couch was fairly easy, but it was the thoughts careening through his head and shoving more worries to the forefront that truly kept him awake.

He lay for what felt like hours on that sofa, eyes scanning the darkened ceiling above until the roof melted away into darkness and the cushions beneath fell away and the night reached out to claim him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know... for a totally self indulgent chapter, it sure took a long time to write.
> 
> Just... let these good boys hug.
> 
> Also, just as a warning, the next chapter will contain some erm... explicit content. So, If you intend on continuing to read, you may want to pay close attention to the tags.


	6. Caught Between The Chapters Of A Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis wakes up in a very uncomfortable situation, and then, to both his relief and dismay, wakes up to a rather more uncomfortable position.  
> The tension is becoming unbearable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags have been updated to reflect the sexual nature of this (and future) chapters.  
> This chapter in particular contains some non-consensual touching in the first half, and some depictions of masturbation in the second.

###  **Six: Caught Between The Chapters Of A Dream**

 

Ignis didn’t recall closing his eyes, nor did he feel himself open them again. It felt less like he had passed from consciousness to dream and more like a slow shifting of the space around him, so subtle he hardly noticed until the change was complete. The blanket of darkness around him stretched deeper, and yet pushed closer; similar from one moment to the next, and yet vastly different. It was the chill that hit him first. Ice had collected in Ignis’s veins and settled deep in his bones. The aches he tried so hard to ignore felt like fire in contrast. His right leg in particular made him shift uncomfortably as the pain radiated from toe to thigh. Gone was the soft couch on which he laid himself down to sleep. Instead his fingers dug into hard stone and stale air filled his lungs. 

 He had zero experience with lucid dreams— that was usually Noctis’s thing. At least, that was the first thought that came to mind. After all, what else could it have been? This dream felt just as real as the waking world, but oddly more sharp; a complete contrast from what Noctis had often attempted to explain. The dark was more complete, the pain nagged a little louder, his ears rang in the complete silence. And he was freezing, as if the very air around him sought to steal the life from his body. Just where had his mind brought him? Was he conjuring memories of the night in the woods, pitch black save for the distant daemonic blades chasing behind. Or maybe that lightless stairwell in the ruins? The one who’s shadows set him on edge, the one he could not stop thinking about. Even in this dreamscape, the thought of it made his skin crawl. 

Something other than the rapid thrum of his heart caught Ignis’s ear. Faint enough at first that Ignis assumed he was simply jumpy, hearing shadows slide along the floor. At the end of a long, quiet exhale, he heard it again; something drag along the stone. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to raise up on his elbows and peer into the void.

 With a show of ungainly control, he fumbled for the light at his breast. Very cold and very bare fingers felt only silken fabric, damp to the touch and mussed beyond modesty. His hand dragged down his abdomen, too weak to properly tug his shirt back in place. Another dragging sound… closer.

He found the small light attached securely to his belt loop instead and after a few frustrating seconds, he managed to click the light on. It flooded the area and dispersed into a blanket of white mist that settled about him. It was cold and thick enough to keep him blind to his surroundings. It swirled about, agitated by a sourceless breeze. He’d seen this recently… A mist wafting up from the dark stairwell, lulling them to sleep against the cold stone of a ruined tower. And he should have recognized it back then, too. His stomach sank as the realization crashed into him; This wasn’t mist. The mollification of his limbs was not from adrenaline depression. There was a deep gurgling growl, so close to his ear that he startled, scrambling back as much as his weakened arms would allow.

The mist churned suddenly, chased by whipping limbs that descended upon him from the darkness. He had no time to process before the beast lashed out, swiping at the offending light. The tear of fabric echoed in the chamber as a thin limb ripped the torch from his body and tossed it into the distance. It clattered against the stone and flickered, but remained lit. The new angle illuminated the figure looming above, tentacles whipping with agitation. He found himself staring up into the fleshy maw of a Mindflayer.

His body moved entirely on instinct. With all the will he could muster, Ignis ripped a spelldagger from the Armiger and slashed the air above him. The spectral blade barely manifested as it struck flesh, the bright blue bolt of lightning arcing between the blade and the tentacle that threatened to close around his throat. The creature didn’t even seem to notice; the bleeding appendage seeped black ooze but continued to reach out for him. Something wasn’t right. Mindflayers were no strangers to Ignis. He had encountered several in their journey and had time to make note of their typical weaknesses, attack patterns, and and behavior. His Stormbound daggers should have done optimal damage, but the beast didn’t even seem to feel the attack. 

Ignis rolled to his stomach, forcing himself across the stone floor as he tried to scramble to his feet. The mindflayer swiped at him, its claw-like nails shredding fabric and skin alike. Ignis went down again, a scream of frustration and pain trapped behind clenched teeth. Ignis pushed himself off the ground once again. He needed to find his footing and orient himself. Running hardly seemed an option. He’d need light to make a run for it, light that was conveniently on the wrong side of a very powerful daemon. Fighting on the other hand, Ignis thought he might be able to do… as long as he could regroup. 

The cursed thing was aggressive, however. Not a muscle twitched in Ignis’s hand before he was staring down another attack. A curtain of red bloomed in the air in front of him as the Mindflayer’s cascade of tentacles unfolded as if it were casting a net. Ignis sprang back feet over head, dodging the grasping limbs as he had done so many times before. A tentacle grazed across his heel just as it fell out of reach, but the damage was done. Ignis lost his trajectory and hit the ground at the wrong angle. Pain flared through his right leg as he put pressure on it and he stumbled, colliding with the wall chest first . The daemon was on him instantly, its twisted form slamming him against the stone. Air was forced out of Ignis in a stilted yell. Tentacles wrapped around limbs, twisting in the fabric of his shirt, grinding his face against the wall, slowly prying the dagger from his grip.

Ignis gritted his teeth, his strained grunts echoing around the barren chamber as he struggled against his captor. His body was slow and powerless, like he was moving through chest deep water. He yelled in frustration as he summoned his second dagger to his hand. With his chest pressed to the stone, he would not be able to execute a good riposte, but all he needed was a stagger, a flinch, anything to loosen the grip the creature held over him. He thrust the dagger backward and felt the blade breech flesh, sliding into the pectoral muscle like a hot knife through butter. But there was no flinch, no bellow of pain. Had it even noticed?

Fingers wrapped around his throat and forced his chin up. The creature was a silhouette looming behind, light bleeding over the edges of its form by the discarded flashlight. The tentacles around its mouth shifted and splayed out in all directions, some flicking against his face and collar, leaving a fine trail of slime behind. As each one moved, Ignis caught a glimpse of a vortex of needle-like teeth hidden beneath. It inched closer, emitting that horrible gurgling growl in his ear. Putrescent breath made his eyes water and he held his breath. He could see the teeth contract and move with each unnerving vocalization in a grotesque mockery of speech. Then it exhaled. A cloud of freezing mist engulfed Ignis. As if he was submerged in freezing water, Ignis took an involuntary gasp. The exuding mist invaded his nose and mouth and filled his lungs with its poison. Immediately, the fight ebbed away and his vitality drained away in one shaky exhale. The shrill ring of metal on stone sounded distant as his dagger slipped from his grasp, his fingers completely powerless to continue holding on. 

‘ _This is just a dream._ ’ Ignis reminded himself, try to quell his terror. But then why couldn’t he fight? He should have been in control of this dream. Was that not how it was supposed to work? Still, strength drained from his muscles, leaving him little more than a puppet in the daemon’s grasp. ‘ _Just wake up and be done with it._ ’

But his mind didn’t obey. 

He was expecting to be disposed of. Drained up and deposited in some dusty corner. It is what every other encounter with these beasts told him to expect. However, the daemon seemed to examine him instead. Odd squid like eyes roamed over his form, a human-like intelligence shining behind the slitted pupils. Why did it not finish the job? Why would his mind suspend him in a nightmare such as this? 

“Unhand me!” Ignis rasped beneath the frigid fingers threatening to crush his throat. As if in response, the creature tightened its grip and hoisted him into the air. He managed to raise his enfeebled arms, grasping the creature’s wrist as if might ease the pressure on his neck. His shoes scraped uselessly against the stone wall, kicking loose pebbles that skittered across the floor where he feet used to be. He could do nothing but stare over his shoulder into bright yellow eyes. Just as the creature examined him, he analyzed it. In that moment he knew it was useless to fight, and the soft voice in the back of his mind told him as much. 

Ignis was met with a look that made his stomach drop. Had it wanted to, it would have crushed him in a moment. But apparently it had different plans. It knew full well what it wanted, what it was doing, perhaps it even took joy in his fear. Perhaps that is what it fed on. Not flesh or blood, but thoughts and emotion.  A deep seeded dread worked its way into his thoughts. Maybe this is not a dream. Perhaps this was real and the peaceful apartment was the dream. Here, the untended cut on his leg throbbed painfully and the fear and panic bubbled too close to the surface, but there… He recalled the numbness he felt as he scrubbed at the torn flesh and the ways Noctis allowed his touch with nary a flinch. Ignis clenched his teeth and jammed his eyes shut. In this moment, the darkness felt so much more real.

‘ _Wake up. Please._ ’

A chilled appendage slipped up the hem of his pants, curling around his calf and making the fabric strain, unable to accommodate the added bulk groping its way up his leg. Suckers pressed against his open wound, seeming to take special interest in the various lesion. Another arm poked at the exposed flesh of his midsection where the fabric had torn away. It began to explore his skin, suckers dragging across scrapes, making Ignis writhe. He shivered, feeling as if each touch from the creature sapped the heat from his body. It seemed inexorably drawn to his body heat, hungry for more contact, more warmth. That’s when the Mindflayer’s many arms began to pull at the cold, damp fabric, seeking unhindered access to his skin. The appendage at his chest slid between the gaps of the shirt, and as it pressed further in, and the buttons began to fail one by one, the expanse of his chest was exposed to the bitter chill. 

Ignis could hardly classify his movements at this point as struggling, in the end it seemed more like muscle spasms than anything else. But that hardly stopped him from trying. The thunderous beat of his heart became rapid in his ever growing panic. Speculating on the ineffable goals of the creature was pointless. If it had wanted to kill him, it would have done so long ago. For one reason or another, it wanted him alive, and that fact alone flooded Ignis with dread.

The Mindflayer’s exploration redoubled and tentacles pressed between fabric and skin in earnest, ripping away anything it perceived as an obstacle. Ignis kept his eyes obstinately shut, but he felt the fabric being torn from his body, shreds of his shirt barely clinging to his form as the tentacles moved on. They wrapped about his thighs and slid between his legs. He felt them curl and twist, groping at the heat and opening tears in the thick denim with chitinous little teeth. Another appendage slid over his hip and pushed into the waistband of his trousers and then his undergarments. Ignis jerked. The slimy tentacle slid along the crease of his hip, following it down between his legs. 

“Cease thi—” His cry was cut short by an elongated, tentacle-like forefinger forcing its way between his lips. The vile thing stroked his tongue, holding it down as it slid further into the heat of his mouth and silenced his voice. The taste of brine and decay sat heavy in his mouth, and it had Ignis feeling as if he would choke on it as it filled his senses. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, begging his mind to allow him to wake from the nightmare. The digit invading his mouth did little to take his attention fully from the threat of the lower limbs tearing at the tough denim and grinding against him. His skin felt like it was on fire, set ablaze by each swipe of cold skin against his own. He shifted his thighs still caught in the strong grip, hoping to nudge the errant limbs away from his sensitive skin. His struggling only made them more persistent.  

Tears squeezed out from the corners of Ignis’s eyes as a tentacle slid properly against his groin and began to rub and grope at the flaccid form of his penis. Heat rushed immediately south, and Ignis’s body shuttered and he had to stifle a weak groan.  Shame and fear did not stop the blood rushing to his dick. It did not care that the assault was entirely unwanted. The more they touched, the more heat that gathered between his legs, and the more interested they grew. Ignis moaned around the finger in his mouth, pleading to the astrals to just let him wake up or allow him to die on the spot lest he continue to suffer this humiliation. 

The daemon wrapped tighter around him, pulling him away from the wall and engulfing him almost completely in the veil of slick tentacles rubbing against his half naked body. He felt the daemon’s head move closer, the tentacles of its face curling over the back of his head and neck until those sharp teeth pressed into the base of his skull. A pained groan rose from his chest and a thrill of heat traveled down his spine and settled in his stomach. It was an odd sensation, feeling the Mindflayer’s influence caress his mind, sweeping away all rational thought. The tension in his muscles eased away completely, leaving nothing but a forced pleasure behind. His body moved involuntarily as he began to seek more, his fear and pain transforming into desperate need. His breathing became rapid even as the pressure on his throat increased, cutting off his air and making a static vignette dance around his vision. As consciousness slowly began to drain away, a growling voice arose in the back of his mind like an itch and pulsed through his ears with each rapid beat of his heart. He heard its voice in his mind as clear as his own gasping sobs.

  
  
  


_S̴̠̻̟̞̦̖͗̔́̂̏̒̈͋̊̑͘͜͜͝͝u̶̫̰̩̝̱̍̎͋͝b̷͈̟͈̮̺̱̦̯̦̪̌̈́̌̃m̴̬̰͎̺̼͗̓͒͐̑͐̽̍̚͝͝į̵̨̫̼̯̠̖͎̭̽͒͜ͅͅt̵̜̉͜ ̶̦̟̬͚̰̇͐̌̏̾̆̇̍͘͘t̷̢̼̙̤̯͓͈̖̪̫̪͒ơ̷̭̯̞͈̟ ̵͔̓̒̐̈́̒̅̓͋ų̵̖͙͈͈͋ş̶̥̦̩̂̔͂̓͋̏̕̕̕͘͠͠͝_

_̵̝̠̬̤̳͓͉͎̅ͅW̸̡̮̻͂͂̊͒å̷̢̲͉̯̜̼͓͖̯͈̞̏̀͂̓͌̋̈́̈́̌͋̏͒͜͝͝ͅr̷̨̧̡̞̹͕̪̲͓͈̹̠̹͖̜̒̌̽̍̔̍͑͋̊̍̕̚͝r̵̛̥͕̼͕͙̹͒͗̽̊̉̏̚͜͝ĩ̷͓̩̫̯̖̠̞͊̈̅̂̇̿o̵̡̝̹̯̥̮̰̞͆ͅr̵̡̛̠̜͎̳̺͍̖̺̙̓̇͌̉̊͑̋̈́̀̅̈̒ ̸̧̢̜̘̱̬̲̻͚̳̣͕̩͇̀͗͑̈́̾͌̈́͑̽̆̚͜͝o̸̡̬̰̭̯̙͎̪̣̤͈̞͕͒͆̌f̵̢̤̳͔̪͓̽ ̵̡̛̠̼̻̘̯̦̩̪͇͍̱͑̀̍̈́̍͆̇̄͆̆̏̔L̷̢͓̮̙͕͎̰̦̳͌̑̎͐̈̑̿͠͠ï̷̡̼̝̜͛̇̂̑̚ģ̸̡̼̲̠̻͉͓̜̥̇͐̄͑̓̉̌͑̅̚͜h̷̖͚͈͓̒͋̍̑̒̊̏͊̇t̵͇͍̗͕̺̺͔̬͓͒̊͌͆͒͆̋̓̕͜͜͠͠͝͠_

_̷̧͍̟̣̌͆͋͒̇͐͒̋͋̄̈́̚̕͝T̷͔͚͎̮ö̷̲̗͖̫̝̯̥̗̻̯̱͉̯̹̭́̓̀̄ ̷̢̨͇̙̖̮̫̝̹͈̱̫̍͑̿̉͋̈́̂r̸̡̟̬̖̤̯͕̪̽̅̕e̸̘͋̓̂́̄̚̕͠ͅs̸̢̢̢̛̭̣̪̻̬͍̰̻̼̯̙̿̑͒̎̈́͛̾͊ͅi̵̢̦̗̠̰͒̔͆̆̋̒̚̚s̷̨̱̓͐̆̄ţ̴̺̟̭̞̯͍͔̣͇͔͚̮̼̓́̅̕͜ ̸̨̢̱̟͇͖͔̯̹̜̪͒͊̀̐ţ̵̢̛̻̩͈̤͇̰̲̦̀͋̆̓̆͝h̸͓̗̪̮͈̑̀̿̿̿͘ẻ̸̫̺́͂̆̈́͆̚͘ ̸̡̡͚̮͓͕͙͔̻̫̰̳͍̓̓̆͒̐̾̉̚͜d̵͓̑̐̌́̈́̈́͐̕͝r̴̛͇̫͍̮̙̫̉̀̽̽͘͜e̵̻̩͙̯̣̽͊a̴̪̖̟͙͙̦̹̲̞̘̾̏̈́̒̑͒̂̾͊̉̀͠m̶̢͕͓̖̘̼̼͎̺̻̆̍̒͋͂̆́̉͛͆̓́͘̚ͅ ̷̢͓̮̼̰̆͛̄̒̏͊̓̐͗̍̽̈́̉͝_

_̸̨̪͔͔̪̮̠̳̬̽̔͂̑̈́̎̒Ȉ̸̢͉̘̮̖͚̱͕̦̩̟̏̃̈̽̇ͅͅs̶̖̭̥̦͌̿̋̈̄̄̃̎̚͝ ̷̬̘̬̭͕̲̬̥̠̌͛̃͑͋͂̓̔͌͗̒͗̓͗t̴̤͍̮̖̓́͂̈̀̈̽̀̍̏̋͘͠o̵̦̹̹͈͚͍̹͎̒̿̔̏̾̆̾͝ ̴̢̛̭̬͓̭͎̇̔̄̚͜d̶̪̘̖͖̖͎͇͌̈́͒̿̐̕͜ͅḯ̷̢̪̺̟̬e̵̼͍̲̲̯̠̬͍̯̫̒͊̅̔̀̉̈͛ ̸̛̞̯̹̩͐̋̒̈́̄̔͑̎͗̉͝ṅ̷̥̬̳̂͊̾̔͌̑̂͌͑͗̚̚ȅ̶̮̥̺͜͜e̵̲̩̹̤͛̓̓̆̔̿͆ͅd̴̗͎͈̟̈́̎̃͗̅̔l̶̡̧̨̝̖̭̹͖̜̬͍͉͇͔͆̂̊̎̏̔͂̇̆͜ȩ̸̟̘̼͚̰͖̪̠̱͈̹̻͂͂̇͐͆̃̎̍͌̏s̵̛̪̲͕̠̙̝̜̗̥̥̍́̃̾̄͋̾̈̎ṣ̴́̈́̃̐l̵̡̛͓̺͉̖̳̺͕̻͉̗̘̝͈̑͂̄͐̈́̆̄̋͆̎͐̿͝ͅÿ̴͈̠̦̘̮́͛̔̈́_

 

**̶̢̠͓̗̦͗̒**

 

It rang in his ears even as he woke to a room streaked by sunlight, filtered through half closed blinds. Immediately the dread pulled away, retreating back into his nightmares where it belonged. And yet the pressure on his body remained, the pleasure and heat between his legs making him writhe. He opened his eyes and was greeted immediately by a mop of dark hair. 

Slotted perfectly into the sliver of couch left unoccupied by Ignis’s body was Noctis. His head rested peacefully against Ignis’s shoulder, breath ghosting against the exposed skin of his neck. Their legs tangled together awkwardly, and each small shift of Noctis’s sleeping form made Ignis increasingly aware of how the Prince’s thigh pressed in between his legs.

His skin was on fire, and a blush was already coloring his cheeks. While his sleep addled mind was quickly forgetting the details of his strange dream, his body remembered quite well. Under the weight of Noctis’s sleeping form, Ignis was embarrassingly hard. He was in trouble. His hips shifted against the intrusion in an impulsive twitch. A groan rumbled from his chest to his throat, halting at his teeth as they clamped down on his bottom lip.

Noctis was practically squirming on top of him by the time Ignis got up the nerve to move. The little breathless huffs were so warm on Ignis’s collar, and his fantasies threatened to override his sense of self-preservation. Oh, how he wanted to feel Noctis’s hands on him.

He cleared his throat, hoping he wouldn’t have to trust his voice to keep his composure. But Noctis didn’t so much as stir. 

“Noct?” Ignis tried quietly as he moved his hand to rest atop Noctis’s head, “I must ask you to move.”

Still, Noctis didn’t wake, though this time he did shift. A whine erupted from Ignis involuntarily as a warm thigh pressed against his rather unfortunate erection. It ached horribly, yearning for friction that Ignis absolutely did not intend to give it. Mortification wasn’t a strong enough word. The sheer level of impropriety had him grateful that Noctis was such a deep sleeper. Suddenly, he was glad his half-hearted attempt to wake the prince had failed. But he still could not just sit and bear it.

Had the body above him belonged to anybody other than Noctis, he may have been tempted to discard them to the floor and make a retreat, but he could not bring himself to wake his prince in such a careless manner. Noctis would call treason. Instead, Ignis forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat and began to gently turn himself and Noctis until they both lay side by side on the narrow sofa. Finally, Ignis was able to slide free. Noctis groaned and rolled over, at least somewhat aware that his pillow had fled. 

 

* * *

  


The journey out from Insomnia had been harder on Ignis than he would ever be willing to admit. He spent years building walls around his feelings for his beloved prince, using excuses of work and duty to keep them intact. The journey to marry Noctis and Lunafreya had ripped them down like wet tissue. What was the point of propriety when all they had ever known lay in smoking ruins? Each day he worried he was coming closer to losing what little grip he still had on his honor. He was madly in love with Noctis, and each smile thrown his way, each morning he woke to Noctis curled against him, each moment they forgot about the roles assigned to them, the harder the journey became. And now— this.

Ignis gripped the edge of the vanity, knuckles white against the marble veneer. His head bowed between his shoulder blades and drew in a deep, calming breath. From the periphery of his vision, the reflection in the mirror mocked him.

“What in the Astrals’ bloody name was that?” He said through clenched teeth. He could barely recall the nightmare now, and it continued to slip away the longer he stood in the restroom, head down and unable to meet his own gaze. His mind was running at half speed and rattled its way through the shock of waking from a nightmare into the beginning of an erotic fantasy.

He turned on his heel, pulling off the sweat dampened shirt and turned on the water, letting it run cold. His teeth worried at his bottom lip as he cast a glance at the closed door. He had little desire to deal with misplaced hormones, or to confront the fantasies running on repeat in the forefront of his mind. But the heat coursing through his veins was driving him now, discarding inhibitions and drawing a needle sharp focus on the itch under his skin. Even the graze of his own hand against his bare hip was electric.

It had been a while since he allowed himself to indulge, his mind supplied, and Noctis wasn’t likely to wake up soon. When would he get another chance? Nobody would know. The tension coiled low in his stomach was hard to push aside, and it certainly wouldn’t take too much to relieve the ache. His whole body begged for it, screaming at him to get over himself and just do it.

Borrowed clothing fell to the floor about his ankles and was carelessly discarded. He stepped into the lukewarm stream and turned his face to it. Cool water cascaded over his overheated skin, running in thick rivulets down his spine as he pressed his forehead against the tiled wall. He braced an arm above his head, fingers clawing at his scalp.

His traitorous mind supplied image after image of Noctis’s pale skin, the delicate arch of his back, the way his tongue darts out to lick at his soft lips, the glisten of sweat on his ever burgeoning musculature. Ignis was palming his erection before he could truly talk himself out of it. He usually did his best to move away from such subjects in situations such as this, but good judgment was apparently not in the cards. He’d find time to feel bad about it later.

The first stroke was hesitant and light, fingertips just skimming along the thick vein on the underside. His long fingers wrapped around the base and slid up the length, twisting at the tip to rub his palm over the head. Another gentle tug had his thighs quivering and he picked up the pace. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the slit at the end of each upstroke and smeared precum down the shaft on the down stroke. The cool water raining down on his overheated skin only added another subtle layer to his pleasure.

He thought of Noctis’s thighs rubbing slow over his erection-- another stroke. Lips and breath ghosting against his neck— another. His stormy blue eyes looking up at him through long, dark lashes— quicker, harder. His laugh, his smile, the power and grace in his perfect body. Ignis was all but gasping for air as he drew closer to release, hips rocking in time with inelegant stroke of his fist as he fucked into it. Soft moans punctuated each breath and the tension coiled in his gut grew heavier. His eyes slid closed as his pleasure reached a fever pitch.

Tentacles greeted him in the darkness behind his eyelids, assaulting his body from all sides, pleasuring him against his will. The low growling voice in the back of his head demanding his submission. His thighs were shaking now, and each muscle in his body grew tight with the pending release.

“Ignis--” Noctis’s voice filtered through the door, just audible over the water. It was far too late for Ignis to stop. With the sound of his own voice on Noctis’s lips, his pleasure peaked. A gasp of pleasure forced itself from his lungs before he could catch it as both shock and orgasm washed over him. He clapped a hand over his mouth and dug his fingertips into his jaw as his seed spilled into the other.

“--I brought you a clean towel.” Noctis continued, slightly louder to be heard over the din of the shower’s spray, “And your clothes… figured you’d want those.” 

Ignis fought to control his breathing, pulling in unsteady breaths through his nose. There was a short pause of heavy silence as he caught his breath and re-centered himself before he could reply.

“Much obliged.” He said as he pulled his hand away, somehow managing to grate out something that sounded somewhat casual. Usually he’d ask for them to be left on the sink for him if there was a curtain present. But currently, he wasn’t at all comfortable with Noctis entering the room. “If you would leave them—”

“I’m comin’ in.”

Ignis heard the door swing open and cursed under his breath. Perhaps he would have to confront their expectations of personal space at some point. The haze of arousal faded instantly and shame filled the spaces left empty by his release. He opened his eyes and silently watched the water wash the thick white cum from his hand while the reason for his transgressions shuffled around on the other side of the curtain.

The towel rack rattled as, Ignis assumed, Noctis placed to towel on it, just inches away. His legs were still weak, his breathing still just a bit too rapid to be able to explain away should Noctis notice. 

“Are you feeling alright?” Noctis asked. He sounded genuinely concerned, and Ignis’s stomach dropped. Of course Noctis knew something was off.

“Your concern is appreciated, but misplaced.” Ignis said, the waver in his tone smoothing out, “There will be plenty of time to speak later. We have a long road to Hammerhead…”

“Oh, yeah… of course.” Noctis seemed to catch the hint and retreated to the door again, “I’ll see if there’s any Ebony around here.”

“Thank you, Noct.” Ignis listened as Noctis slipped out of the bathroom and all but slumped into the wall. He took a few long breaths. It would be hard to look at Noctis in the eye for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long break as I wrote and rewrote this chapter. Thank you for your comments and kudos! This chapter sets up a sort of theme that really isn't going to go away, so expect to see more bad-touching from everybody's favorite squid monsters.  
> I can't bring myself to apologize.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will be marked explicit at a later date, but seeing as I don't know exactly when that will be, I am gonna hold off on rating it as such until that time. I'll also likely go into some morally gray areas and some non-con situations with some particularly... handsy daemons. I'll update the tags as these situations come up, of course. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the first chapter. Kudos and comments will certainly give me more motivation to work on this instead of being a responsible adult. Thanks for reading!


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